


Pulled From The Dark

by orphan_account



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Anxiety, Cuddling, Eventual Smut, Everyone's gay, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, I'll add more to these, Love Confessions, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Pining, Slow Burn, because let's face it, idk yet, it works, race has some anxiety issues, spot conlon is a softie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-03-31 22:21:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 24,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13984527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Racetrack Higgins starts selling in Sheepshead. Spot Conlon becomes interested in the boy with bright blue eyes and a deep care for the younger newsies.Race becomes intrigued in the King Of Brooklyn, with his fierce loyalty and daring behavior.Pining, best friends, fights, angst, and love ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> This is my first published fic in like a year so please forgive me if it's awful, but here's hoping!
> 
> I've never done the NY accent thing so I'm really sorry if it's really bad- Let me know.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> I ate four whole ass oranges while writing this lmao

When Racetrack Higgins nervously dashes across the Brooklyn bridge late one night, he doesn’t really know what he expects other than to walk into a beating. Brooklyn is dangerous business if you aren’t careful, and Race was certainly not. 

Still, he trudges on and finds his way to the lodging house. At least Romeo had given him good information. The kid had a history of lying through his teeth.

 

Race took a deep breath and walked into the squat, dimly lit building, and forced himself to push his shoulders back and keep his chin up. Adrenaline pumped through his system.

As soon as the door opened, dozens of newsies, boys and girls alike, turned and looked at him. One, an older, tough looking boy, smirked and addressed him.

“Who is you?” The boy asked, looking skeptical. A rough looking boy sitting nearby stood up, and cracked his knuckles. The first turned to him and chuckled.

“Not now, kid. Not ‘less you want your other eye blacked up, too’s.” The boy sat down.

The taller kid turned back around, clearly still expecting a response.

“I’s Racetrack. Jack sent me over’, gave me a message to give to Spot. ” That was a bold faced lie, but Race knew he’d have to talk to Conlon himself or he’d never have a chance at Sheepshead.

The boy looked impressed, and nodded his approval. 

“Sounds fair. He’s upstairs, don’t do anything stupid or we’s gonna soak you and all you’s ‘Hattan kids.” Race nodded quickly, and did his best to ignore the snickers coming from the other boys as they returned to their food and games.

Race stepped up the stairs as quietly as he could, going up until he saw a door with an old paper label: “Spot Conlon” It simply read. Race took a breath and knocked.

“If there’s a problem, Marks is in charge. She’s the one a’ go to.” A voice muttered loudly. 

“There ain’t no problem. It’s Race, I’s from Manhattan.” Race called back, sighing in relief when the door opened.

And there stood Spot Conlon. Race suddenly understood why so many people were afraid of him. He took a step back.

“Lemme takes’ a guess. Kelly’s sent you?” Spot growled. Race shook his head quickly.

“No, Spot. I’s been sendin’ myself. I know you and Jack ain’t too peachy right now’s- That ain’t why I’ here though’” The assured, sighing in relief when Spot opened the door and invited him in. Spot sat on his bed. Race sat on the floor.

“So, why is you here, then?” Spot asked skeptically. 

“I has a question for ya, Conlon. And before you says yes or no’s, just hea’ me out.” Race said, taking a breath and starting to ramble.

“I know Brooklyn is ya’ turf, I’s young, but I ain’t stupid.” Spot nodded. Race continued. “I heard from some a’ those Queens boys that there ain’t nobody sellin’ in Sheepshead.” Spot’s hand tightened on his cane, before Race held his hands up in obvious surrender. 

“I don’t wann’ fight. Just let me finish. I swear on me honor’, I’ll only be ovah here for sellin. I ain’t gonna buy from your wagons, or sell anywhere else’. If you catch me doin’ any a’ that, soak me all you’s want to. Just let me sell in Sheepshead.” Race finished and waited with bated breath as he attempted to read Spot’s face. Finally, he spoke.

“What’s wrong with where you’s sellin now?” He asked. Race slumped over.

“All the little ones is going to ‘Hatten. They needs a spot to sell more than the rest of us do, but we’s all gotta eat.” He says, and Spot thinks, with the frame Race has got, that food is certainly an issue.

“I gots to say, I’m impressed. You’s clearly real protective of those kids, I can see that. And I guess, if you’s willin’ to make the trek, and you don’t stir up trouble… You can take Sheepshead.” Spot was cool and collected, even as Race jumped up and spat in his hand, shaking it excitedly. 

“Thank you’s, Spot.”

“Anytime, kid.” He responded. Race decided to push his luck.

“Hey, I ain’t no kid! I’s just your age.” Spot chuckled.

“Clearly you ain’t as mature.” He replied, a small smile gracing his face. Race couldn’t help but to smile back.

“Shut your’ trap!” Race replied lightheartedly.

“Never’.” Spot replied as the other boy turned to leave the room.”

Just as he walked out, Spot spoke up again. 

“Oh, and Race?” He questioned softly. The boy turned to face him again.

“Yeah?” 

“You can be out there as soon as you’s ready. Stay safe and out of them streets. See you later.” He said softly. Race smiled and responded with a curt nod before he was off. That’s all he could manage.

As the sun set, Race ran back over to Manhattan before Snyder came out. He came back into the lodging house just in time to grab what was left of dinner and return to his bed. Underneath lay a worn journal, which he pulled out and flipped to a clean page. He dated it and wrote down the events of the day, most notably, his last hour.

“Just went to see Spot. I get to sell in Sheepshead, but I gotta see him again. He’s a pretty boy, and a real softie at that. He’s got nice eyes and a good smile and those arms, oh my god. In short, I’m fucked.” 

He followed that with a quick sketch of Spot’s face, taking extra time on his chocolate curls and warm, capturing eyes. 

He decided that was enough and tucked his journal under the bed, saying goodnight to the boys and tucking himself into bed.

~~~~~~~~~

The day after his odd interaction with Race, Spot continued his day as usual, except for one thing. In between the release of the morning and evening papers, Spot made his way to Sheepshead to see if Race was there.

He was just ensuring that the kid wasn’t stirring up any trouble, not coming to see him again. He had no ulterior motive at all.

When Spot made it to the races, he was surprised to see nobody selling in the area. Maybe Race had just decided to wait a bit? Or not come at all? Brooklyn was scary, Spot wouldn’t be surprised.

As Spot gave up and turned the corner to walk back, he saw a glimpse of that same skinny boy he had spoken to yesterday. He dashed up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Race jumped wildly and his reaction was immediate. In a fraction of a second, Race drew his shoulders up to his ears and threw his arms around himself. He turned with and expression of sheer terror on his face, leaving Spot confused. 

“Hey, Race. You don’t gotta be so up in arms. It’s just me. I gotcha.” He soothed quietly, furrowing his brow. 

Race panted but relaxed slowly, taking deep breaths and letting himself relax.

“Christ, Spot. You’s spooked me.” Race replied, and Spot figured it best to drop the subject.

“Damn, ‘Hattan, you’s already done with your papes? How many did’ja have?” Spot asked, bordering on impressed.

“100, why? You sayin’ I ain’t no good at sellin?” Race got defensive quickly. Spot would have to remember that.

“Not at all, just impressed. Even some of the Bowery boys can’t sell that fast, and they’s good.” 

“Maybe I’m just better.” Race responded, and Spot cracked a rare, open smile. 

He figured it wouldn’t be too hard to get along with this kid.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which fights happen, angst also happens, and there's some fluff in there too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here's chapter two! 
> 
> idk if this chapter is better or worse than the last one tbh I'm pretty torn

Over the next week, Spot sees Race around three more times, but only twice does he really get to speak to the boy.

When he did see him though, he is happy with his decision to allow him to sell in Sheepshead. Race is adapting to the Brooklyn newsies better than anybody expected, making bets and playing games with the boys.

When he isn’t kicking everybody’s ass at poker, however, Race is with the kids. He’s always around the littlest ones, making sure they have enough food and enough money for papes the next day. He hands out sketches to put on the walls by their beds and, Spot’s personal favorite act, he teaches them to read and write.

This started with him taking a few kids who confessed they couldn’t even read the headline to giving practically every boy in the house lessons over dinner. Most of the boys had only a rudimentary knowledge of writing, and Race took it upon himself to teach them all. Spot was filled with pride every time he saw the lanky boy correcting, or giving lessons, or congratulating somebody on learning a new lesson.

He had even saved up nearly all of his money to buy a huge book of English and math, giving up nearly all of his spare time to making sure people were learning.

His pastimes weren’t all peachy, however. 

Spot’s worry began when he walked into the lodging house for the third day in a row to see Racetrack teaching instead of eating any dinner. He equated this to the fact that he was always late to come in, and makes conversation with the other boys before going to bed.

The next morning, when Spot woke up, he hurried to see the headline.

“Police brutality causes uproar in Central Park.” 

Spot decides it’s a perfect headline, and he’s done selling his 100 just after lunchtime. 

He takes it upon himself to use the remaining two hours until the evening paper comes out checking up on his newsies.. 

Spot wanders the streets mindlessly, until he sees a small girl sprint out of an alley with a terrified look on her face. He hears the sound of a fight in the alley she came from, and curses under his breath. 

The streets are nearly empty, with it being an odd hour to be off work. Spot runs to the girl and grabs her by the shoulders. She screams until he gets down onto a knee to comfort the girl. It’s only then he realises she has a nasty looking black eye forming and a busted lip.

“Hey, it’s okay kid, I ain’t gonna hurt ‘ya.” He mutters soothingly, wiping away the tears streaming down her face.

The poor girl is in hysterics.

“My name’s Jessica. I just got here from California. My dad’s been acting real strange, and he got mad at me, so I started yelling back. He hit me a-and I just… I ran. Somebody found me being chased and now he’s fighting my dad… He’s dressed like you.” 

Spot’s stomach sinks. But this is Marks’ sector, so somebody else has to be here.

Marks turns the corner, and Spot pushes Jessica towards her, telling the little girl to stay with her, and tell her what happened. Marks knows what to do. Spot yells at her to get Catch and come back as soon as they can. She nods her understanding and runs.

With the little girl gone, Spot turns and sprints into the alley, and nearly screams.

Race is tangled up with a tall, brawny, middle-aged man and it doesn’t look like a fight he’s going to win.

Spot screams a loud “Hey!” to get the man’s attention, trying not to look at how nasty Race looks.

The man turns, and pockets a large knife. Before Spot can get to him, the man is gone, Lost inside the building and later out the other end, taking off down the street. Spot tries to catch him, but is locked out. He yells in anger and balls his hands into fists. There’s no way he can get to the man now.

Spot turns his attention immediately to Race, who is barely conscious. He kneels down next to the boy in hysterics.

“Hey, hey, Racetrack, stay’s wit’ me, okay?” Spot rambles desperately, trying to keep him awake. 

“It’s me, it’s Spot. I’s gotcha.” Race groans and tries to sit up, whimpering in pain as he pulls his hand away from his side. It’s covered in blood. 

Spot curses and screams for Marks, who rounds the corner into the alley nearly a minute later, with Catch, another Brooklyn newsie in tow.

By this time, Spot has pulled off his shirt and is using it to stop the bleeding, holding Race close in comfort. The other two rush towards them, Marks practically pulls Spot off of Race.

“He’s gonna be okay. Catch has got ‘im.” She says, holding Spot by the shoulders and looking him dead in the eyes. He nods shallowly, though he’s pale and has tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. And Spot Conlon didn’t cry.

Marks notices just as Spot turns away to wipe his face, and furrows her brows.

“Spot, what’s wrong?” She asks softly. Spot scoffs through sniffles.

“What do you mean ‘What’s wrong?’” He cried out. “I’s gonna get Race killed. It’s my fault he’s sellin’ in Brooklyn, and I should’a been here sooner. It’s my fault.” Spot stops when Marks throws her arms around him, holding him tight. They both sigh in relief when Catch reports that nothing was punctured, it’s just a shallow gash, and that Race will be okay.

The remaining minutes go by in silence, spare Spot’s occasional sniffling and the tear of bandage, tape, and stitches. 

Spot thanks whatever God there is that Race is passed out, stitches hurt like a bitch.

Still, after what feels like hours, Catch declares Race ready to go, and the trio hoist the boy off the ground and begin the long trek to the lodging, where Jessica waits, along with dozens of the other boys.

They drag him through the streets quickly, trying to stay in the shadows just in case. With three muscular newsies holding up the one thin one, they make surprisingly quick progress. Within fifteen minutes they arrive back at the house. 

Spot nods a silent thanks to the other kids that were watching over Jessica, dressing her wounds and trying to get her to eat. 

Catch, Marks, and Spot continue to drag Race upstairs, with Spot leading them into his room to set him down.

“You sure, Spot? You’s protective over your room.” Marks asked. Spot just nodded and pushed the door open. They laid Race down and he stirred slightly, giving them all hope that he might wake up soon. 

Spot turned to the others and sat down by his bed. 

“You guys can all head out. I’m gonn’ cover Race until he’s a little better, then we’s gonna work out who will. Send Jessica up an’ get out there before it’s too late to get to sell, you hearin’ me?” He asked. Both newsies nodded and got up, running to go send up the girl and go back to selling. 

Spot sat in silence for a few moments, looking over Race, wracked with guilt.

It was his fault the kid was so beaten up. It was his fault he was lying unconscious, in his bed, with 8 stitches in his hip. 

God, Jack was going to start a war over this. 

“Damn it!” Spot exclaimed, frustrated with the events of the day.

Just then, Jessica pushed open the door and slowly entered, looking terrified as ever.

“Oh, hey, sorry kid.” Spot quickly apologised, beckoning the girl to sit next to him. She sat silently, looking up at him with fear in her eyes.

“How’s you holdin’ up so far? The boys was nice to y’a, right?” Spot asked, trying his best to get through to the girl.

“I’m okay. They’re very kind, thank you for asking.” She spoke with a hollowness to her voice, like a robot programmed to spit out responses.

“That’s good. Listen up, Jess.” Jessica looked up, seemingly confused at the nickname. Spot just smiled.

“Do you got any family we can get’ ya to? We’ll be takin’ care of ya’ if not, but we gotta be sure.” Jessica shook her head quickly.

“All my family is in California. I can’t get to them.” Spot sighed. He had a feeling this is how it had gone down. 

“Just one more question and then I’s gonna lay you down for a nap. Has ya’ dad ever hit you before, or is this the first time?” There was care in his voice, but his heart shattered as Jessica responded.

“No. He used to do it all the time.” She said, tears leaking down her cheeks and onto her shirt. Spot looked down at it and smiled. 

It was a bright purple garment covered from hem to hem in large, sparkly ruffles. Spot made an impromptu decision. 

“Hey, Ruffles. I got’ ya.” He pulled her into a hug, relishing in the smile she gave at the nickname. It would stick just fine.

“We’s gonna protect you, I promise. Nobody’s gonna get to you here, we’ll take good care.” He soothed.

“Now, let’s get you in to some comfier clothes.” Spot added, standing to look through the hole in the wall closet that served as a storage for extra blankets and clothes. It was in his room just to be sure nobody stole.

He picked out an outfit that looked comfy and would fit, and turned around to let Ruffles change.

While turned around, Spot walked over to Race and gently combed his dirty blonde locks off of his forehead, smiling sadly when he stirred. Apparently he had gone straight from passed out to simply asleep, and nobody had noticed.

When Ruffles came back over, Spot grinned widely at her and led her to a spare bed in one of the other rooms. He gave her an extra blanket, some water, and tucked her in tight, whispering reassurance to her until she fell asleep.

Spot slowly stood and returned to Race, sitting down on the edge of the bed and feeling sorry for himself until he stirred one, twice, and finally opened his eyes. Spot nearly cried in relief.

“Hey, Racer.” He said cooly, looking over the sleepy boy.

“Heya, Spot.” He replied softly, wincing softly as he tried to sit up. Spot gently laid a hand on his shoulder and ensured he stayed lying down.

“Please, Race. Don’t ‘ya go pullin’ a stitch or nothin’. We needs you to get betta’, remember?”

Race groaned and stuck his tongue out teasingly. 

“Do ya’ need anthin’?” Spot asked softly. “Water? Food?” Race chuckled and shook his head.

“No, Spot. I’s doin’ just fine.” He responded, looking Spot in the eyes for a moment too long. They both looked away and Spot cleared his throat.

“Well, I gotta redress your wounds later, so sleep it all off now, cause that’s gonna hurt like a bitch.” Spot joked, attempting to lighten the mood. 

“Okay, Spottie.” Race giggled. Spot narrowed his eyes. 

“Don’t call me that.” He said simply, drawing up his shoulders.

Race’s shit eating grin never left his face. 

“Wha’ are you gonna do about it? Soak me?” Spot took a breath in mock frustration. 

“Shut up, dummy.” He responded. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you when I gotta redo those bandages.” Spot responded, walking out of the room to pick up some food for Race.

~~~~~~~~~~

About an hour and a half later, Spot decided it was a decent time to redress his friend. He drew a bath of warm water and grabbed a change of clothes that wasn’t drenched in blood. He took an extra pair of underwear for the bath, too.

Spot snuck quietly into his room, looking over Race quickly and wishing he didn’t have to wake him up. He looked genuinely peaceful for the first time in ages. Still, he gently shook the boy awake and smiled at him when he opened his eyes.

“Hey, you’s got a’ get up. It’s my job ta’ make sure you don’t bleed out on my turf.” Spot teased, gently helping Race throw an arm around his shoulder and lead him to the washroom. Spot tried to ignore the way Race groaned in pain when they moved too fast, immensely glad that the others boys weren’t back yet and that Ruffles was still asleep.

When they finally made it to the washroom, Spot sat his friend down carefully on the toilet seat. 

“Alrighty Race, clothes off. And please keep ya’ underwear on.” He teased, turning to let the boy do it himself. Race feigned embarrassment and dramatically threw an arm around himself.

“Well, I’ll say, Spottie! At least take me to dinner’ first!” He dramatically gestured, causing Spot to turn back around and playfully flick him on the forehead. Race groaned in mock frustration.

Spot gestured silently to the tub, helping Race up and slowly lowering him down into the warm water. Race made a noise of happiness as he sank back, allowing Spot to scrub away at the dirt caked to his body.

After a few minutes of letting Race soak, Spot had to pull him out of the water to redress his injuries. 

The Brooklyn boy sat down his friend and carefully doused a cotton pad in alcohol.

“This is gon’ hurt like a bitch, grab onto my shoulder if ya’ need ta’.” Spot muttered, unexplainably glad when Race did what he asked.

Spot gently sanitized and re-bandaged the other boy’s wounds, trying his best to ignore the hand that gripped his shoulder like a vice as he worked.

When Spot finally finished, Race was practically slumped over him, clearly still exhausted. The two dragged themselves upstairs, and the Manhattan Newsie practically collapsed on the bed he was provided. 

By now, a couple other boys had come back, so they were able to go to sleep for as long as they wanted. Spot figured there was enough room in the bed, and, as it wasn’t uncommon amongst the other boys, silently asked permission to lay down with Race. He nodded, and Spot smiled briefly before laying down and making himself comfortable behind Race, throwing an arm over his waist and holding him securely against his chest.

Neither boy stirred for hours after they fell asleep, not until the sun rose the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to name a kid newsie Ruffles l e t m e l i v e
> 
>  
> 
> That being said, what did you think?
> 
> Comments and kudos are GREATLY appreciated!
> 
> <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of abuse (I'm sorry but all the Newsies have upsetting backstories that's why they're slaves of child labor) 
> 
>  
> 
> A lot happens in this chapter, so strap in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! 
> 
> This made me very anxious to write, but it had to happen, and now it's done. I hope I do the events and their inherent emotion justice.

A week after the incident with Race, things had gone relatively back to normal.

Race was staying in a bed in the Brooklyn lodging house, still far too roughed up to make the trip back to Manhattan.

Catch was taking days off to tend to Race, making sure he wasn’t in too much pain as he recovered.

Spot took Ruffles under his wing, teaching her the ropes of selling and using her size to her advantage. Ruffles was twelve, but she easily passed as nine if she put her hair in a hat and stuck out her bottom lip. The fact that she was a girl gave her an edge, too.

Spot was always nearby her, watching just in case something happened to the kid.

With the two Newsies combined, and Spot working a bit longer than usual, they were making enough money to cover Catch and Race comfortably, and if Spot skipped a meal here or there, nobody would be the wiser.

That being said, Race was getting antsy. Whenever Spot got back from selling, he would call him in and talk his ear off about getting back out there. And how full he was. 

Spot raised an eyebrow at this, seeing as he apparently was only eating twice a day. Catch told him he was refusing food, and got caught sneaking some into a cloth to give to the other kids. Spot was concerned, especially since Race was so thin and seemed to ready to get back to running around New York all day.

So, one day after finishing cleaning up a small cut Boots attained, Spot sat down on Race’s bed with a serious look in his eyes.

“Antonio, we need to talk.” Spot said sternly, but not angrily. The other boy furrowed his brows deeply and sat up, looking afraid of the conversation to come. Antonio was only for serious conversations.

“What’s goin’ on, Spot?” Race asked nervously, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his pants.

“I’ma just cut to the chase, kid. You ain’t been eatin’, and we’s all noticed it.” Race paled. He refused to meet Spot’s eyes, but if he had, he would not have seen anger. Only concern.

Several moments passed, and Race didn’t say anything. The tension was palpable.

Spot grew more and more worried every second that passed.

“Race, please. Talk to me. I’s worried about ‘ya.” Spot’s voice grew softer, and he reached out to place a hand gently on Race’s knee. He considered it a success when the other boy flinched, but didn’t pull away. Race opened his mouth, seemingly thinking of what to say, before speaking finally.

“I’m sorry, Spot.” Was all he said. Race looked as though he might cry, but Spot knew he had to get through to him.

“Hey, hey.” He said, cupping a hand over his shoulder and forcing him to make eye contact.

“Tony, you don’t got nobody to apologise to. You’s got no reason to be sorry. All I wants to know is why.” Spot spoke with care, taking in every movement Race made and hoping he could somehow make him understand what he was doing to himself.

“I do, though. You’s all worried about me, but you gotta understand.” A few tears leaked down Race’s cheeks, and he wiped them away before continuing.

“I’m 17. Same age as’ you.” Race’s voice shook as he spoke, and Spot let him finish what he was saying.

“I’s been havin’ a pretty good life, for the most part. Never really gotten sick, and I’ve had you guys around to keep me going when things get rough. But like the res’ of us, I’s got a messed up backstory.” Race hiccuped, and Spot interrupted.

“Hey, hey… You’s okay, Racer. I gotcha, you don’t gotta finish.” He said, gripping onto his friend’s hand tight.

“Yeah, I do.” Race responded. He took a deep breath for continuing on.

“When I was still livin’ with my folks, my Momma would treat me real bad. Afta’ Dad left, she picked up drinking an’ she hit my sista’ and I all the time. Said she hated us, we weren’t worth it, the works. She hated when we spoke Italian, it was our Dad who taught us. She never bothered to learn.” Race took a shuddering breath and Spot squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“One night she got real upset, and started comin’ after me. My siste’ got in the way, tried to protect me. She got a bottle over the head at the wrong angle, an’ she died right ther’. My mom beat me and I screamed until a neighbor called the cops. I ran away when they was interrogatin’ her. I neva looked back.” Race choked a sob, but didn’t look like he was done. Spot sat closer to his friend, silently stroking up and down his arm.

“But she was always tellin’ me I was too big, that I needed to eat less an’ lose weight. She’d punish me an’ starve me for’ days on end, and keep me outta school so I couldn’t sneak nothin’. I was so young, Spot. It just never left me. Still, ta’ this day, I think I ain’t good enough to eat… I’s so, so sorry Spot.” A broken sob forced its way from Race’s throat, and Spot drew him close, encompassing him in a tight hug and vowing not to let go until he could be sure Race was safe.

“Hey, hey. I gotcha’ Race, I gotcha’. She ain’t gonna hurt ya’ no more, I’s here.” Spot stroked up and down Race’s back, noting the hands balled tightly in his shirt and the way Race managed to make himself seem so small in this moment.

“Listen to me, Race. I matta’ more than she did, cause I ain’t neva’ done any a’ that to you. And none of us ever will. I cares about you, Racer. And you deserve everything anybody else has and so, so much more.” Race slowly calmed down, eventually pulling away, eyes red and puffy.

“Thank you’s, Spot. Can you do me a favor?” Race asked softly.

“Of course, anythin’.” Spot said quietly, eyes locking intensely with his friend.

“Kiss me.” Race requested breathlessly, and Spot complied eagerly. Spot’s lips, warm and chapped against Race’s, were awkward at first, but the boys soon found a rhythm that made them both comfortable. 

As their kiss grew deeper, Spot’s hands tangled in Race’s hair, and Race’s hands gripped Spot’s waist. Spot’s heart beat wildly against his ribcage, leaving him breathless. He gently bit down on Race’s lip and he moaned, and oh jesus fucking christ that was a good noise.

Eventually, Race had to pull away, placing his forehead gently against Spot’s. The two panted, their breath mingling in between them.

Spot spoke first.

“Oh my god.” He spoke simply, pulling away to look Race over. He fixed his hair quickly, noting with disappointment how much better it looked messed up. He’d only get to see it so often.

“Yeah. Oh my god.” Race agreed, nodding as he readjusted Spot’s shirt and, on impulse, pulled him into a tight hug. Race giggled and Spot smiled softly against the other boy, looking at him lovingly when they seperated.

“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight and talk this over’?” Spot asked breathlessly. Race nodded, seemingly unable to reply verbally.

And when the two boys laid down and ate warm sandwiches that probably cost more than they could pay Marks back, they spoke and cuddled until late into the night. And really, who was to judge if they decided that maybe, just maybe, they could live with doing this for just a little bit longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there it is!
> 
> Tbh I wanted this to be a bit more slow burn but I felt bad after what I put Race through. 
> 
> How do you feel about this chapter? Predictions/suggestions for the future? Let me know in the comments! 
> 
> (Please us fanfic writers aren't joking when we say we liiiive off of the validation it gives us- It's so motivating thank you so much)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of fluff in this one but also a concerned Marks because I'm too in love with characters that don't exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speaking of Marks, she gets a lot more fleshed out in this chapter but for those wondering: Marks is Spot's second in command over Brooklyn, and she is TALL. I'm talking like 6 foot tall. She got the name Marks from the birthmarks that cover part of her face and most of her arms.
> 
> That's all

The next day, Spot and Race are awoken to a loud banging on the door, and Spot practically jumps out of bed, covering Race with his blanket and moving him behind the old, wooden structure. 

He tidied himself up and opened the door, sighing in relief when it was just Marks at the door. She didn’t return the smile Race flashed him.

“You have a visitor.” She said simply, waving another boy up that he didn’t recognize. 

“And who might you be?” Spot asked skeptically. The other boy scowled in hids face.

“I’m Specs. Came from Manhattan.” Spot inwardly panicked as Marks stepped back, hoping he wouldn’t be left alone to diffuse a war when he was better at thinking with his fists than his head. She seemed to notice this and returned, pushing her way in and standing next to her friend. They backed up to allow Specs into the otherwise empty room, and shut the door behind him.

Specs spoke before Spot could do anything to stop him.

“What the hell have you done with Race?” He accused, and Spot almost sighed in relief before he responded.

“Oh, that’s why you’s here?” Screw it, Spot decided, and spoke boldly.

“He’s ova’ there, behind the bed. Don’t get ya’ panties in a twist, I didn’t murder ya’ friend.” Spot snapped, walking over to pull Race up from behind the bed. Spot gasped in horror, and his jaw was slack.

“Relax, Specs.” Race chuckled. “I’s just got in a fight with some ass from the streets. Spot’s keepin’ me over here ‘till I can make the trek back. These Brooklyn boys has been nothin’ but kind to me. Swear on me honor.” Race spoke with a grin, and Specs visibly relaxed at the words.

“Okay. I hate to be askin’, but can I bring him back? Kelly’s seconds away from throwing a temper tantrum thinkin’ you kidnapped Race for ransom or somethin’. He’s really got the fellas riled up, too’s.” Spot tried not to let the disappointment show on his face, but judging by the looks Marks gave her, he failed miserably.   
/  
“Yeah, he should be well enough to walk to long as you’s takin’ care a’ him on the way.” Spot said. 

“I’ll be down in a minute, Specs. Marks, can you give Spot and I a moment? I’s got some stuff to say.” Both other Newsies nodded at Race’s request, and left quickly. Spot turned to the other boy nervously, expecting their conversation from the night before to be thrown out the window and for him to say goodbye.

“Hey, Spot.” Race’s voice was nothing if not gentle, and he coaxed Spot onto the bed silently. They held hands, and Spot couldn’t resist the way he squeezed tight to the other, hoping it would just keep him here forever.

“I’s gonna keep sellin’ in Sheepshead, and keep teachin’ those kids to do their work. But Manhattan’s my home, and I can’t just up an’ leave it. But I don’t wants to leave you, neither.” Spot almost sighed in relief, but forced himself to keep a stoic expression for the time being.

“Thank you’s, Race.” Spot said softly, finally letting his face break into a small smile. Race practically glowed at the sight, brushing his hair out of his forehead.

Instead of responding to Spot’s words, Race took a breath and simply said “You should smile more often. It suits you.” Spot’s entire face flushed, as well as his neck, and he tried to hide himself behind the blanket. Race didn’t give up.

“You should blush more often, too.” He joked, and Spot stuck his tongue out briefly.

“You should kiss me more often.” He said, pulling himself out from the blanket and closer to his lover. Race smirked.

“That can be arranged.” Race mumbled. He placed a gentle hand on Spot’s chin, guiding them together. The two boys didn’t separate for what felt like an eternity.

When they finally split, both were breathless and hopeful for the future.

“Ya’ know that sandwich joint by the docks?” Spot asked, and Race nodded.

“Meet me in the alley behind it tomorrow.” He followed up, smiling broadly when Race planted a quick peck on his lips and nodded. They both walked downstairs and Spot watched as Race hugged his friend tight and the two of them walked away together, back to Manhattan.

Spot was quickly brought back to reality when him and Marks started walking together to the Brooklyn Newsies’ square. She gripped his arm and slowed her pace, forcing him to do the same. His eyebrows furrowed and he glanced at her confusedly.

“What’s botherin’ ya’, Marks?” Spot asked nervously, not missing the way she gulped before speaking.

“You and Racer need to be careful.” She spoke softly, and he nearly stopped in his tracks.

“What?” He asked, terrified of the response he would get.

“You can do whatever you want behind closed doors, but you have to be careful when there’s other people around. None of this sneaking off together bullshit I know for a fact you’ll try to pull. I am not going to let the King Of Brooklyn get arrested because he’s got a boyfriend he’s too stupid around to be careful.” Her tone was stern and foreboding, and Spot felt the color drain from his cheeks more and more every moment that passed.

“What is you sayin’, Marks? That Spot an’ I can’t be together?” He asked, hoping on hope he could avoid the fight that was inevitably going to come.

“No, that isn’t what I said at all. You have to be careful, though. Just like the other boys. Look at Albert and Elmer, those other Manhattan kids. They got dragged to the Refuge and on of them nearly died before Jack could get them out.” Spot saw her point.

“Yeah, that makes sense. I’m gonna be careful, promise.” He spoke nervously, and the headline was put up. It was decent.

“Thank you, Spot. I’ll look out for you as much as I can, and so will the other kids, you know that damn well. You look after them the same way. But we can’t protect you if you’re out in public doing stupid shit and you get caught. Please, please, stay safe.” Marks finished as they paid for their papers.

Spot nodded and hugged her tight as they began to walk away. 

He knew Marks well enough to know that the pit in his stomach, raw and dark and devouring, was felt in hers as well. He tried to ignore it as he walked to his selling spot.

~~~~~~~

Over the course of the day, Race had to take far too many breaks in his selling, and found himself nearly unable to run the Brooklyn bridge he had once found so simple. His stitches and bruised ribs cried out in pain, and Race had noticed it, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

He shouldn’t be selling yet. He knew that. Still, he trekked on.

Race barely finished selling his evening papers before he turned and sprinted to the alleyway he had planned on meeting Spot in.

He was there far after Spot had arrived, it seemed. 

Spot dragged him into the shadows and hugged him tight, his strong arms wrapping around Race’s lanky frame. They both felt safe.

“Hey, Spottie.” Race teased, and Spot chuckled against his neck.

“Hiya, Racer.” 

The two felt their panic melt away as they sat in the dank alley, watching what they could see of the sunset before going to the docks to watch the waves crash against the shore. They spoke until just before curfew, when they made plans to meet at the docks the next day and reluctantly split, both walking back with a warm feeling in their chests and ideas in their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think so far?
> 
> Enjoy this chapter while it lasts because choo choo I can hear the angst train rolling in it's almost to the station.
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Feedback is appreciated, as always!
> 
> <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choo choo the angst train has made it to the station. Shit gets serious in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry

The next day, Spot and Marks walked together to the docks, joking and discussing Spot’s relationship. Marks had all kinds of questions, and Spot found he could answer the vast majority of them with relative ease. 

There was one that messes him up.

“What if you get caught?” Marks asked thoughtlessly. The question made Spot stop in his tracks. He had refused to let the thought to cross his mind, even when it seemed like something he had to address. He gulped before responding.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he gets away safe. I’ll take the blame.” Spot muttered, balling his fists at the thought. “You’s gonna take Brooklyn.” Marks grabbed her friend by the shoulder and forced him to keep walking.

“Hell no, Spot. I am not ready to take control of this entire borough and you know it.” The docks came into sight and Spot took a deep breath when he saw Race was already seated on the edge, legs kicking back and forth over the edge. Spot idly smiled before Marks snapped him back to reality.

“I wasn’t either, but that’s how things work aroun’ here, and you knows it.” Spot grumbled. There was an undertone of finality between them, a feeling of dread for the future, even if it had nothing to do with Race. Rumors were already stirring about somebody stepping up to fight Spot for his leadership. Even the thought sent shivers down both friend’s spines.

They had to put aside their fears, however, when they approached Race, who was grinning like a maniac. His smile was infectious, and soon, all three Newsies found themselves grinning from ear to ear. 

According to Race, his day had been awful, but he was so excited to get to spend time with his friends that he was just floating.

Two men walked behind the three kids, and nobody noticed it was far after curfew until a strong hand gripped the back of Spot’s collar and threw him backwards onto the dock. 

Smiles quickly faded as Spot scrambled to get off the wood, and Race and Marks pushed themselves to their feet as quickly as they could manage. Marks muttered under her breath. “Goddamn Delancey's.” 

Spot threw a punch that landed square on Oscar’s nose, with the boy being thrown backwards with a sickening _crack_. 

It was then their position was made clear as four more men stepped out of the shadows, one of them being Snyder. 

“Fuck, run!” Race cried, and the three Newsies took off down the dock. It was late past curfew, so nobody batted an eyelash or lifted a finger to help the kids as they dashed down to the dock in hopes of a place to get away to. Spot panted as he ran, gritting orders through clenched teeth. He knew Brooklyn best, they trusted him with it.

The wind blew through Mark’s hair, and it flew behind her. Morris, who was sprinting on the trio’s heels along with his brother, had the idea and reached his hand out, yanking it harshly. 

Marks flew backwards, turning and kicking Morris directly in the stomach and turning to sprint down an alleyway, it was far too late to catch up with Spot and Race. Both Delancey’s followed her, leaving the Newsies with Snyder and his crew.

Race and Spot sprinted down the main road, only a few blocks away from the lodging house. The boys were convinced they had almost made it, until Snyder made it just far enough to hook a leg in front of Race’s, effectively tossing him to the ground. Race gave out a strangled cry and demanded that Spot run, get out, get away, stay safe, don’t get your dumb ass caught, _goddammit_.

Spot ran for a half block in terror, before stopping just in time to see Snyder grip his large baseball bat tight and slam it over Race’s head. Race, who was still screaming for Spot to run. Race’s who was struggling to stand even as blood poured visibly onto the street. It was impossible to know, at Spot’s distance, where it came from, but it was undeniably Race’s blood.

He watched Race collapse onto the cobbled streets of Brooklyn, the place he shouldn’t have been had Spot not allowed him, had he not made the plans to meet, had he not been so careless with curfew. 

Another man threw a well placed kick that shook through Race’s unconscious body, before the third picked him up and threw him over his shoulder as though he weighed nothing, like he was a ragdoll made to be tossed around by whoever had possession of him.

Angry tears leaked down Spot’s cheeks, and he screamed until his voice went hoarse and his knuckles were bloodied and bruised from punching the wall. The men had long since turned in the opposite direction, heading off towards the Refuge .

Spot walked numbly back to the lodging house, cursing every star, every situation, every decision that had led him to where he was now.

He got back and slammed the front door shut, not even looking at Marks when she put the pieces together and realised what had happened to Race.

She followed him to his room, and by the time she had sat down on the bed, Spot was gripping her tight and sobbing into her shirt. This was the second time in three weeks the pair had found themselves in this position, but it didn’t matter.

“It’s my fault.” Spot sobbed, making no effort to restrain his emotion. Marks just stroked her friend’s back, the fire in her belly to destroy Snyder only being fueled by what had happened. She didn’t have words for the situation, no amount of comfort could change what had happened. Instead, she gritted her teeth and muttered the only reassurance that could actually help.

“We’re gonna get him out. I Swear on it.” Spot sobbed against her, but nodded furiously.

“You bet your ass we’re gonna get him out, and I’s gonna beat Snyder within an inch of ‘is life if I gets a say in it.” He responded coldly.  
~~~~~~~

When Race woke up, the first thing he noticed was how badly his head hurt. Actually, it was how bad his _everything_ hurt. The kid next to him were huddled against the wall, trying to make as much room for Race as she could.

Race groaned and forced himself up, looking the girl over with a deep sadness.

“Hey. Who are ya’, kid?” Race asked softly, rubbing at his eyes before he realised how sore they were and that one had to have been bruised. The girl looked momentarily terrified before she responded.

“I’m Split. I’m from Queens. The girl mumbled, and Race smiled softly.

“That’s pretty cool! I’m from Manhattan. I take it you’s a Newsie?” He tried to lighten the mood, gently ruffling her hair when she smiled and nodded.

“Nice, I’m Race. I’m gon-” Race was cut off by a banging on the window. It was an ungodly hour of the night, but Race had a feeling he knew who it was for. He climbed painstakingly off the bed. Thankfully, it was first bunk, but Race still had a hard time. He had to limp over to the window, and he tried to ignore the way his friends’ faces fell when they saw the state he was in.

Spot stood, pressed against the window bars, in an attempt to be as close to Race as possible. Marks stood behind him, keeping watch and observing the actual inside of the Refuge.

Spot gripped Race’s hand tight, and the first words out of his mouth were the words “I’m so sorry.” Race shook his head and smiled sadly.

“It’s not your fault. You can’t be blamin’ yourself. But you gotta be quick, the guards is gonna be here soon.” He spoke quickly, the sense of urgency taking over the trio.

“Okay, Racer. Here’s the plan. We can’t get you out tonight, but tomorrow, at seven, we’s gonna get out of ‘ere. Be at the window, we’ll do the rest.” Spot murmured, hearing heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Race gripped his lover’s hand tightly one last time and pulled away, hissing at them to leave, and turning to limp back to the bed.

Race’s two friends were gone in the blink of an eye, but when the guards came in, Race’s face fell. He was still far too close to the window for it to be innocent. 

“Shit.” He mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there it was!
> 
> Fair warning, I'm going to be busy with school this week and especially next weekend so posts might be pretty scattered but I'll do my best to get something up in that time.
> 
> I'm really sorry about this, but I'm not gonna lie the angst is far from through.
> 
> That being said, what do you think? Let me know in the comments!
> 
>  
> 
> <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. I really didn't think I'd get another chapter out this soon because I have a big competition next weekend and I'm currently spending all my time doing that soooo
> 
> It's not a very long chapter at just over 1,100 words but it's an important chapter so
> 
>  
> 
> Here it is anyway

Race had never learned to keep his mouth shut when it mattered, so when a guard gave him a stiff command, and he responded with “By golly, at leas’ take me out for dinner’ first.” It did not go over well.

Twenty minutes later, Race collapsed in a heap in the small room they had left him in and sobbed. He thought he was in pain before, he decided that was nothing to what he felt at that moment. Everything hurt, and the huge, charred welts on his back cried out every time he made any movement at all. It hurt to breathe, and Race couldn’t walk. 

Hours afterwards, a guard picked him up and cruelly dumped him at the window, where he’d undoubtedly be unable to escape. He couldn’t move, and every time he tried to his whole body cried out in anguish.

Race could still feel the red hot branding iron pressing against his skin, melting away the flesh it touched. He could hear the guards laughing as he screamed until his throat was bare, and then they shoved him on his burnt back and beat him even further.

He had obtained a lip torn open so intensely that he could barely move his mouth without it bursting open another time, and every muscle was so beaten, bruised, and bloodied that Spot was perfectly willing to give up in this very moment and stay compliant for the two more months before he was released.

That was, until Race heard the sound of a screwdriver working tirelessly on the bars, seeing them come loose one by one, and feeling his body be hoisted up as Spot, Specs, Catch, Jack, Marks, and Romeo pulled the last of the bars off and wordlessly declared a jailbreak.

Race was too tired for the words to fully register, but he heard soothing encouragement from Marks and Specs, who were holding him up. He could faintly hear Spot barking out orders to Newsies all over the area, demanding they run to get away before things got ugly. 

 

Most who couldn’t support themselves got help from their friends, or just others willing to help in hopes of saving somebody’s else’s skin.

By the time Race was awake enough to figure out what was going on, they were blocks away from the Refuge, in a dank alley. He was put down, and his group dashed over to him. Romeo and Jack looked as though they had seen a ghost.

“Shit, Race. What do we do with ya’?” Specs asked, beckoning Catch over to bandage him up. The medic did so without question, wrapping cloth around his arms and head before noticing his back. A look of terror came over his face.

“We have to get him to a hospital.” Marks’ face fell.

“We can’t afford a hospital. Even if we could, Snyder could find us there.” She hissed anxiously. Spot shook his head and interjected.

“Nah, if there’s an injury too severe, they fixes ya’ up, free a’ charge. Brooklyn’s real good abou’ that.” Jack nodded furiously.

“He’s right. An’ Snyder will be in the streets all nigh’, and makin’ calls to the Governor.” Marks looked terrified, but nodded. The rest of the group was in no position to object when Race dazed out and groaned in pain as his back pressed harshly against the brick wall he was balanced against.

Marks and Specs hoisted Race off of the ground again and the large group made their way to the hospital, not saying a word. With each growing step, Race grew weaker and closer to a grisly end. 

Nobody wanted to think about what would happen if they didn’t make it in time.

~~~~~

When the group arrived at the Brooklyn hospital, they forced Race over to a nurse and pleaded for somebody to help. She nodded curtly and brought him back behind a door after taking his name and giving them the room number he would be in after it was ensured Race was going to live. 

Jack and Spot had to go home, and Stitches left to go fix up other Brooklyn kids that had been in the Refuge and gotten torn up. That was, to say, all of them. Specs and Romeo left as well, stating the need to take care of Jack and some Newsies’ little brother. They all promised to return immediately after work the next day, but Spot asked Marks to stay.

“Please, Lizzy.” He pulled her aside and pleaded. “I needs you to stay and take care a’ him for me.” Mark’s face fell. Her real name was only ever used for _we need to talk_ and _what did you do?!_. In was in that moment that Marks realised just how hard these two had fallen for each other, and whether it was romantic or not, how much Spot needed Race to be okay.

So Marks nodded decidedly. “Of course, Spot. Cover my wages and I’ll be waiting here for as long as you need me.” She hated to bring up money, but it had to be discussed, they lived on pennies each day. 

Spot nodded. He mumbled a soft “Thank you’s.” and pulled Marks close to him. She looked him in the eyes one last time and an unspoken conversation was made between the two of them.

_”I’m scared.”_

_“It’ll be okay.”_

_“And if it isn’t?”_

_“We’ll figure it out if we have to.”_

Spot turned and walked out of the hospital silently.

Marks turned in the opposite direction and followed a tired looking lady into a small, sterile room.

Once seated, she was asked dozens of questions about Race. Some of them she did not know the answers to, others pained her to have to think about.

The entire hour and a half that Marks was questioned about Race, she wished Spot was there. He understood what made her tick, the things that made her feel, and exactly what chords not to strike to keep painful memories back. 

Other people, especially those who weren’t Newsies, seemed to have no concept of a personal question.

Marks had to painstakingly answer every question about her family as well as Race’s, which was a story she didn’t even know. 

Finally, Marks was released from the room and told that Race was stabilized, and that she could visit him when he woke up, which would likely be around midmorning the next day.

Marks smiled and nodded, thanking the nurse and wishing her good luck in her career.

She walked back to the waiting room, sat down in a large, comfy looking chair, and promptly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I keep hurting Race I swear I don't have a vendetta against him or anything he's just small and precious
> 
>  
> 
> What do you think?
> 
> Please please please let me know in the comments it keeps me going, for real! I cannot stress enough how much writers mean it when they say that sort of stuff gives them validation. It's scary putting your work all over the internet where anybody can see and comment on it.
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoyed! Have a great day, night, evening, whatever!
> 
>  
> 
> <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> I'm really, really sorry this chapter is so short, but I'm incredibly busy this week and I figured better short than super super late!
> 
> Little bonus: Let's play spot the Outsiders reference! It's very large and near impossible to miss if you've read the book. Good luck.

Race awoke in the hospital slowly, his eyes glueing themselves shut to defend against the hard hospital lights. He tried to move before realizing he was hooked up to a bag of morphine, and wrapped in dozens of bandages. 

Race decided he was simply too tired to handle his current situation and let himself fall back asleep.

His dream was not a pleasant one, however. As soon as Race fell asleep he was faced with an image he never wanted to see.

Spot, confronting a man under a single dimly lit street light. The man laughed in his face and Spot backed up. Race stepped forward and it became clear- The man was Snyder. No doubt about it. 

Their fight was escalating, and Race found himself completely unable to move out of the place he was rooted to.

Spot cursed at Snyder and backed up, screaming something threateningly.

Race couldn’t hear what they were saying, he was just struggling to get to Spot. He refused to let him get taken away, it couldn’t happen.

It was then he realized that the Refuge would have been a gift. Spot reached a hand into his pocket for the pocket knife he always carried just in case things on the street got too intense or somebody went too far.

He pulled the knife out and waved it at Snyder threateningly. Snyder yelled at him, and when Spot got a step too close, he threw the teenage boy against the wall angrily.

By the time Spot had gotten back to the place he was in before, feet bouncing, never quite planted no matter where he was, Snyder had reached into his pocket with a wicked grin.

Race tried to run, to stop Spot, anything to stop what he knew was going to happen. He couldn’t move, and the ice running through his veins threatened to freeze him on the spot. He was angrier than he’d been in years.

Snyder didn’t pull out a club, however.

He pulled out a gun.

Spot, realising his mistake, backed up a few steps to apologise and get out of there, but Snyder raised the weapon and shot.

Spot’s entire body spun as he fell, his body now facing Race. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Snyder laughed and his cruel frame disappeared. 

Race finally found himself able to move again, and he sprinted to his friend, to his lover.

Tears were streaming down his face, hot and fast. Race didn’t care enough to wipe them away, or pay them any mind.

There was blood pouring out of the bullet hole lodged square between Spot’s eyes, and Race did nothing to stop the blood from getting on his hands.

“Spot, no. You can’t be dead. There’s no way you’s is dead. Please wake up. Please, Spot. I ain’t ever gonna tease you again, swear on it. Just get up, this ain’t funny no more…” Race sobbed in desperation.

He clung to Spot’s corpse and _screamed_.

Race woke up in the hospital, covered in sweat and panting. Spot nearly jumped at the sight and ran over quickly.

“Hey, _hey_. It’s just me, Racer. I’s gotcha.” Spot mumbled, petting Race’s hair protectively. Race shook in his arms, pulling him into the bed to calm him down. 

Spot looked down at his lover. “Bad dream?” He asked quietly. Race nodded. The other boy looked at him and it was made clear that Race didn’t have to talk about it.

“The worst dream.” Race’s voice shook as he spoke. Spot rubbed gentle circles into the small stretch of Race’s back that wasn’t covered in bandage and the like. 

“What happened?” Spot asked softly, letting Race lean into him without complaint.

“You got shot, Spot. You and Snyder was arguin’, and you pulled a knife, an’ he just up an killed ya’, right there on the street.” Tears flowed freely down Race’s face now. Both boys noted how much they’d cried lately.

“Oh, Tony.” Spot mumbled, closing his eyes and offering as much physical comfort as he could until Race stopped trembling.

“There ya’ go, Tony. I’s gotcha.” Spot said softly, giving a nurse a hard glare as she passed, warning her not to come in. She obliged and walked straight past the room.

“I’s not goin’ anywhere. I ain’t been shot yet, an’ I steer clear a’ that kinda crowd. We’s not thugs, nobody’s gonna kill me.” Race nodded weakly.

“Yeah, but what if?” He asked shakily. Spot shook his head.

“You don’t gotta think about that, cause it ain’t gonna happen. And if it does, you’ll be okay. You’s brave, Tony. You could take over Brooklyn for me or somethin’.” Spot mused, and Race gave a weak smile even though he was still scared half out of his mind.

“Now to back ta bed, pretty boy. The other boys is gonna want to see you soon, and you’ll want to be well rested. Promise ya’.” Spot gave his lover a gentle kiss and held him tight, allowing them both to drift soundly into sleep.

~~~~~~~

 

Race awoke alone in his bed, and heard from a nurse that the whole gang was waiting outside when he was ready. Race sent them in, even though he felt hollow.

Still, everybody who had been there earlier, sans Catch, was in there comforting Race. They gave him chocolate and some of his favorite books, as well as a sketch pad and some charcoals. It made Race happy to see his friends cared so much about him, and that they knew him so well.

And if Race was overly jumpy, or flinched when somebody moved a bit too fast, they pretended not to notice. Spot gripped his hand tight every time something happened, keeping him grounded and safe. He smiled and joked with the boys until the nurse said they had to leave, and he bid everybody goodbye. They promised to return tomorrow. Race nodded and ensured them he wasn’t going anywhere.

Race reflected on his time in the Refuge and nearly cried just from the thought. How many kids hadn’t gotten away? How many had been beaten stiff and sore and thrown back in? 

Race tried not to think too hard about it, tried to focus on all the kids they had let go.

Spot was always reminding him that he couldn’t save everybody on the planet, called it a “hero complex”, whatever that was. Race decided he would ask next time he saw Spot one on one, and let sleep finally take over him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, that was the wimpiest chapter I've ever posted. Oh well.
> 
>  
> 
> Let me know if you liked it/if you got the Outsiders reference!
> 
> You guys know the comments drill-I thrive off of them.
> 
> Love you all!
> 
> <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned.

The next week was a slow, agonising healing process. Upon being let out of the hospital, he was warned that he’d have to stay away from selling for at least two more weeks. It was decided Race would be best off staying in Manhattan where he knew everybody and could be taken better care of.

That left Spot on his lonesome for two to three weeks. He was too prideful to go to the Manhattan lodging house and make up some cock and bull story to come see Race, so Spot was alone with the Brooklyn boys. Just like how it used to be, but this time, there was somebody he desperately wished he could see.

Marks noticed it, and pulled him away from poker one night to talk.

“Listen, Spot. I know you miss Race, but you’ve become too reliant on him. You’re going to get caught if you don’t start acting like _you_.” She murmured. Spot’s face fell, and he sat for a few moments in quiet contemplation.

“Maybe you’s right, Marks. And I ain’t about to get ‘im beat up again. He’s been through plenty already.” Spot murmured. Marks nodded quickly. 

“That’s all I have to say.” She responded before walking off quickly.

Spot didn’t return to his poker game, heading straight for the bed.

The next morning, Spot woke up and immediately got dressed, heading out towards the street. He ate quickly, and didn’t make any of the same small talk he was known for. Spot picked up his papers quickly and ran out to his selling place, getting the headline out convincingly enough to be done by lunch.

With a thick, awkward air between him and Marks, and no way to visit Race in the middle of the day, Spot took a stroll to where Ruffles was selling, greeting the small girl with a grin.

“Hiya, Ruffles.” He chimed, startling her but relishing in the smile she gave afterwards.

“Hey, Spot. How ya’ doing?” She asked, and Spot shrugged.

“I’s stayin’ alive. How ‘bout you, kid?” He inquired. Ruffles smiled broadly.

“I fake fell this morning and got five and a half dollars already. All my papes are gone till this evening.” Spot smiled wide, chuckling and giving the small girl a high five.

Spot took the Ruffles’ hand and led her to a small sandwich shop downtown. The two joked and snacked, and when it came time to sell again, Spot offered for her to sell with him.

Her eyes lit up and she nodded ferociously, spitting and shaking Spot’s hand eagerly.

The two laughed and made fun of the upper class as they passed, selling papers left and right as a team again.

They sold out early, and took towards the lodging house again. It was dark by the time they got back, and as soon as Spot entered he knew it was going to be a good night.

There was a large game of Go Fish being played, and with the Brooklyn boys, it got competitive. Somebody had stolen bottles of liquor, which Spot dutifully steered Ruffles away from, but got ahold of a glass himself. 

The boys laughed and teased, but Go Fish was quickly exchanged for truth or dare. No matter how old the gang got, they had never quite grown out of playing. 

They all maneuvered into a circle and Marks began. 

“Jas, truth or dare?” She asked. He didn’t think twice.

“Dare.” Marks grinned, and responded without a second thought.

“Sit on Lash’s lap for the rest of the night.” She smirked. Jas flushed completely, as did Lash. Both boys obviously had the hots for each other but neither would act on anything, despite the absurd amount of tension between the two.

Both boys recovered relatively quickly, making light banter and swatting away the wolf whistles they got from the rest of the boys. Brooklyn took truth or dare seriously.

The game continued, everybody joking and playfully teasing until the turn became Flick’s.” Flick was a good friend of Spot’s, and maybe the most observant Newsie Brooklyn had ever seen.

“Truth.” Spot replied as soon as he was asked. It had become tradition years ago for Spot to pick truth first, because the other kids knew he would get in a fight at the drop of a hat.

“Alright, Spot.” Flick looked cocky. “You an’ that ‘Hattan kid, uh, Race. Is you together’?” He asked. Everybody in the room seemed to learn forward or pay closer attention than they had before.

Spot’s face flushed, and couldn’t do anything about it. Before he responded, he rolled his eyes in an obvious attempt to hide the answer.

“Nah. Course not.” He responded. The room went into an uproar.

Marks quietly left. 

Flick ginned wide. “You guys seein’ Spot? He’s blushin’, they’s together for sure!” He exclaimed.

Spot knew that the kids wouldn’t care. They had bigger problems to worry about. Besides, being around other boys so much, it just happened sometimes. Except Spot had a reputation to uphold. He was _the_ Spot Conlon, the toughest kid New York had ever seen. 

When the other boys kept yelling, Spot rose from the place he was sitting on the floor. He fumed and glared bullets at Flick.

“Yea’, ya know what? Race and I is lovey on each other. So what?” He exclaimed loudly. The room fell silent. Spot turned, violently shrugging off the comforting hand placed on his shoulder. He left the dining hall and slammed the door behind him.

Spot bolted up the stairs, leaving a role in the wall where he punched through it on the way up. 

He went all the way up to his own room and slammed the door, tears running down his face.

He didn’t have to say anything. He could have punched the other boy and called it a day. He could have avoided the question completely. He could have played it off.

The thought, however, nagged at his mind incessantly. By midday tomorrow, every Newsie in New York would know about Spot Conlon’s big secret. He would lose his place. Get beaten up, bad, and kicked out of the city entirely. The same would happen to Race. And with him this injured, he couldn’t bare the thought. 

There was nothing he could do now, though.

So Spot punched three more holes in the wall, adding to the array already there. 

And he went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know this was a wimpy chapter but it's been so long since I've posted that I feel like my writing is off and I want to fix it before I write any more and tarnish this almost half decent story.
> 
> Please, please, please let me know what you think and if you enjoyed it! I would really appreciate it!
> 
> <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's intense I'm rlly sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never really written something like this but here goes!
> 
> Also it's spring break so I'm going to spend as much of my time writing as possible.

The next day, Spot woke up late. Usually, if he slept in too much, Flick would knock on his door and wake him up.

Today, it was Marks. 

Spot groaned and sat up, rage immediately taking over him. Marks didn’t smile at him or urge him to wake up, she just said “It’s late.”. Spot scowled at her.

“Ya’ think I don’t know that?” He spat, glaring at her as he stood to get dressed.

“You don’t need to be so rude to me. I didn’t do anything last night.” Marks murmured. Spot scoffed.

“Ya’ didn’t do _anything_ , huh? What about leavin’? You just left an’ let me ruin my reputation, and Race’s too. Some friend you is.” Marks looked down and took a deep breath.

“It’s not _my_ fault you’re too much of an immature child to admit that maybe, just maybe, you actually care about somebody!” Marks hollered. Spot fumed, and stepped up close to her, making up for his lack of height in sheer rage.

“Wow, Marks. An’ here I was thinking you was a good friend.” He hissed. It was her turn to scoff.

“How dare you, Sean? I have stood by and let you disregard your boys, completely ignore me, and pay _no_ mind to your city! Do you even know what’s going on in Brooklyn right now? We’re about to be in a full fledged war with Queens because of some punk little kids that you didn’t pay enough attention to control.” She pushed a finger against his chest accusingly. He looked at her, dumbfounded.

“What the hell did you jus’ say to me?” He asked. Marks rolled her eyes.

“I said that our kids are in danger, and I’ve been the only one doing anything. I _said_ that some of us are hurt, bad, and you’ve done nothing! I _said_ that you have been too busy with your little boy toy to pay any attention to the things that matter!” Marks cried out in fury.

“Race does matter, Marks. Race is jus’ as much one of us as you or me.” He mumbled.

“That’s not what I said.” Marks replied, fists clenching at her sides.

“Yes it is. You’s is one of the most disrespectful broads I’s ever met.” He responded without thinking. Marks looked as though she was going to kill him on the spot.

“Find yourself a new second in command, _Sean._ Have fun taking care of the boroughs without me.” She spat, slapping him across the cheek, throwing a letter in his face, and stomping out, slamming the door behind her.

Spot was left in the silence that followed, gripping the letter in his hand confusedly. Tears slipped down his face, though whether they were from anger or regret was something he couldn’t quite place.

Spot turned to look out his window, only to discover the selling gates were already closed, there was no way for him to sell until the evening.

He sat down on his bed and put his head in hands.

“Goddammit.” He mumbled out, letting a sob wrack his body. He knew better than to insult Marks, she was the best Newsie, and best person, he had ever known.

And she was right. He had been ignoring things. Before he had met Race, this would have never been an issue. Brooklyn, and his boys, were the most important things in the world to Spot. He wasn’t ready to give Race up, not by any means. He just needed to work on taking care of more at once.

Spot looked over at the letter he had thrown on the ground, and carefully picked it up. He pulled it open and began to read slowly.

_Dear Spottie,_

_I was thinking, and there’s a couple things I need to tell you. This letter’s gonna be long, but I ain’t got anything better to do with my time. Here goes:_

_We need to tell the other boys about us. We can’t keep it a secret forever, and we both know there they don’t give a hoot. Most of them is like us anyways. It would only do good in the long run, and it won’t get in the was of you leading. Jack is all open about being with that Davey kid and nobody questions his authority anymore._

_Second, you need to think about Brooklyn. If me being with you is getting in the way of you leading those kids, I’ll be out of the picture before you can say “Sheepshead.” Take care of your Newsies. They need you just as much as I do, maybe more._

_Third, I’ll be over when I can, but until then, don’t come to see me. I’m still real beat up and it won’t do you any good to come see me now. I know you wanna, but Jack or Specs or whoever will bust your head in, no questions asked. They says I need to stay still if I’m gonna get better._

_That’s all I gotta say. Remember Spot, we all love ya, even of you are an asshole._

_Love,  
Racetrack Higgins._

Spot almost screamed. Race and Marks were saying the same things, likely without ever speaking. He had no choice but to listen to two of the most important people in his life, whether he wanted to or not. Things were getting rough around Brooklyn, he had to take care of that.

And he had to apologise to Marks. 

Spot laced up his shoes and walked silently out the lodging house.

~~~~

“You want _what?_ ”

“I want to talk to Diamond.” Spot demanded, letting himself in to the Queens lodging house.

Pushing past the others, Spot made his way back to Diamond and sat down confidently. Diamond looked at him skeptically.

“Here ta’ start a fight?” Spot shook his head.

“Nah. Here ta’ talk.” He replied. “I know my boys is actin’ up, and I am personally apologising for their actions. The Brooklyn Newsies have somewhat of a knack for leavin’ their brains at the door.” He joked lightheartedly, glad that Diamond smiled back.

“Yea’, you could say that again. You’s is fine, just try to stay off out turf from here on out.” 

“I gotcha. We’ll be out of your hair.” Spot replied, spitting in his palm and shaking with Diamond before leaving. 

On his way back, Spot thought back to how brief his conversations with Diamond were. They never really spoke much, and when they did, it was kept short for time’s sake.

~~~~~

Next, Spot made his was over to where Marks sold. He spotted her down the street and walked over, staying in the passing crowds to avoid being spotted too soon. He tapped her on the shoulder when he got close enough.

Marks turned with a grin that fell as soon as she realized it was him.

“I suppose you’re here to insult me some more?” She asked coldly, exchanging a paper for a dime and a look of pity from a passing man.

“No, Marks. I’s here to apologize.” Spot mumbled, pulling her into and alley and dumping all of his reflections on her.

When he was finished talking, he looked nervously at Marks. She stood in silence for a few moments before yanking Spot into a tight hug.

“Oh, Spot.” She mumbled. “Thank you.” 

Spot smiled weakly. “Anytime, Marks. I owe you one.” She grinned and nodded shakily, leaving the alley to sell the last two of her papers. 

“Let’s go get some dinner.” She told Spot, taking him by the hand and leading him through the busy street. 

It was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? God, I hope so!
> 
> Got any questions, requests, predictions, praise? Leave it in the comments!
> 
> <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternately titled "The Marks Interlude."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a request from ~Ariana~, although it's an idea I've been toying around with for a while. 
> 
> I really like the way this chapter came out, not gonna lie.

Marks sat down on her bed late one night, reflecting on her argument with Spot and the conversation they’d had afterwards. Spot apologized, of course, but they had a real conversation about the stuff they’d said after they got back. 

Marks grinned at the thought of how mature Spot had gotten since they’d met, and she had an idea. Quietly, she reached under the bed for the tightly bound journal she’d kept for years. It had been her pride and joy since she was little, and it was so full of important memories that it brought her mood up to simply flip through. 

That journal was where she kept the things she thought she’d remember over the years, or important days she wanted to keep on catalog. Not all of them were very bright, however. Marks turned through the pages until she saw one with an old bookmark still in it. Carefully, she flipped the book open.

_“Dad got real angry tonight. He kept yelling at Mama and Avery and I just hid in my room. They both stood in front of my door to keep him from coming in, but I think he pushed them out of the way, because he got in anyways. They both screamed at him and tried ro get him off, but when he gets real drunk there’s no way for any of us to fight him back._

_He slapped me come and called me names and then left. The front door might be broken, I don’t want to go check. Mama and Avery keep saying they wish he’d never come back or that they could run away. Mama said she’d send Avery and I off as soon as she could get the money. I said I didn’t want to. Avery said it wasn’t safe for us here. Mama agreed._

_I don’t like having these talks, they always make me cry and I don’t like to cry in front of Avery. She’s not as strong as Mama just yet and she never really knows how to handle it so she just cries, too. It makes me real sad. I wish I were as tough as Mama or as brave as Avery. I don’t know what I am just yet, only that I have these dumb birthmarks on my face. I wish I could cut them right off. Mama always tells me “Don’t worry, my dear Edith. It will come with time. I hope she’s right._ ”

Marks looked down at the paper and sighed. If only she could talk to herself before everything happened, if only she could tell her everything that would happen and what she could do differently. Her path could have led somewhere completely different if only Marks were able to warn herself. 

Marks would learn, in the years to come, that the birthmarks covering her face and arms were something to be proud of. They made her different, and with the Newsies of Brooklyn, different was respected. She was tough because of them. Her height was an advantage, as well. It made her look more threatening, and is what let her beat Spot Conlon in a fight once. She wished that she could tell younger Marks that she would grow to be proud of the things that made her strange, because they made her brave, and they made her smart. Just like Mama and Avery.

Marks couldn’t help it, she flipped a few pages to the next most important date and kept reading.

_We’re going tonight when Dad leaves to go the bar. There’s a train leaving at ten, so we have to be ready._

_I don’t have time to write, I’m packing my things and saying goodbye to Mama. At least Avery’s coming with me._

Marks’ expression darkened. She remembered this night in vivid detail. Her Mama had said that she would meet her where they were going. They were headed to New York City. Her Mama spoke with stars in her eyes, and told her that was where dreams came true. They’d meet with their Aunt Margaret, and Mama would come as soon as she could.

Marks would soon learn that there was no plan, nor any way for her to meet them there. She only learned what had happened to her mother when she got a letter from one of her Mama’s good friends. Her mother had been murdered, and her father pled guilty. 

Marks was through with it now, but it had destroyed her as a child. 

She turned to a new page and continued.

_Avery’s so sick they took her to the medical box of the train. A nice lady told me we were almost there and that we’ll go to a hospital as soon as we get off the train. I’m excited for that, I haven’t been able to run in days._

_I hope Avery’s okay._

Marks would soon learn that Avery was not okay, and that she would die of pneumonia barely an hour before they got off the train. Avery had the address their aunt lived at, and Marks wasn’t allowed to see her corpse. She would never make it to her Aunt’s house. 

She flipped almost a dozen pages and kept reading. 

_I don’t know where my Aunt is, but that was months ago. I’m with the Brooklyn Newsies, now. This boy who called himself Flick brought me in and introduced me to his friend, Spot. All the Newsies got new names, they call me Marks. I don’t know why, but I like it a lot. I hate my marks, but I feel at home with the Newsies. The work is long and hard, but we’re free. We go where we want, when we want, and the kids here are nicer to me than anybody back home. They take care of me and make sure I have everything I need. They even taught me how to sell! The older kids are _tough_ , too. _

_They said I “look like Brooklyn.” That makes me happy, because Brooklyn is tough. Manhattan is loyal. Queens is strange. The Bronx would slice me to ribbons, just for fun. That’s what people say, at least. I’ve never met a Bronx Newsie. Spot says that’s for the best. I agree with him._

_Spot and I are getting to be good friends. He takes care of me, and I tell him stories. I hope he stays here. Other kids have all sorts of talk about packing up and moving, but Spot seems happy here. He talks about Brooklyn like he could never, ever live anywhere else. Who knows, maybe he can’t. I hope he doesn’t change._

Marks grinned as the memories of her first weeks in the lodging house came flooding back to her. That was when she’d first cut her hair, and it had stayed short for years until she had become more respected and grown it out. She now kept it in a tight braid going down her back.

Marks had an idea and went looking for a specific entry. She found it and grinned ear to er as she read.

_I beat Spot Conlon in a fight today. I beat Spot Conlon in a fight today. I wrote it twice because that’s how excited I am! I cannot believe what just happened. My jaw is bruised and my head hurts real bad, but who cares? I’m going to be second in command of Brooklyn because I beat Spot Conlon in a fight._

_Even though we’ve known each other for so long, he’s always been tougher than me. I am beyond excited. I’ve been working towards being respected, and my brains help that but now I’m going to be taken really seriously. He even shook on it, and we’re about to go out for celebratory lunch. Spot told me he wanted me to be his second more than anybody else in Brooklyn, but he still fought hard. I know because I’ve seen him fight, and I’ve fought by his side. This is the most spent he’s ever looked after losing!_

_I gotta go, we’re getting food, but I’ll write more soon!_

Marks grinned even wider and remembered that day. She was walking on air. Both kids were just fourteen, making them the youngest Newsies to ever rule over their borough. They did a pretty good job, Marks figured. They were still leading over three years later and nobody spoke of wanting to overthrow them, because they made such a good duo together. 

Marks blew out her candle and thought about how stupid their fight had been. She was beyond happy for Spot and Race, and wanted them to be together more than anything else in the world. Marks had never really experienced a crush or infatuation with somebody before, and she didn’t think she really wanted to.

Still, she could see how happy the two were together.

Marks, with a head full of memories, laid down, wrapped herself up, and fell promptly asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing! This chapter was a joy to write as I love Marks with all of my heart. 
> 
> Comments/Bookmarks/Kudos give me life so feel free to leave any feedback you'd like!
> 
> Have a fantastic day!
> 
> <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight, and a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this took so long to get up, I've been swamped, and typing on my phone is not ideal, but it's what I have to do since my laptop broke. 
> 
> It's a really short chapter, but we're getting into the thick of things, so expect some longer ones in the future. 
> 
> This will likely be the last pleasant chapter.

Over two weeks later, Race was back at the Brooklyn lodging house playing cards and joking with the boys when the tone suddenly shifted.

Flick lowered his voice. “Did’ja hear about ‘Hattan and the Bronx?” He asked quietly. Spot nodded curtly. Race furrowed his brows and looked at Flick, confused.

“Nah, I’s been in bed for three weeks now. I’s all sorts of behind on the news.” Specs and Buttons had read the paper to him when he was bedridden, but he was often too tired to pick up on anything important, or anything at all, really. 

Flick nodded. “I hears ‘ya. They's fixin’ for a full on war, and they's askin’ us to take sides.” He explained. Race looked to Spot, who was still, his jaw clenched. He appeared as though he would rather be anywhere than discussing this. Everybody in the room picked up on it and Race’s hand instinctively moved to intertwine with his boyfriend’s. Spot pulled away almost as though Race’s hand was a hot poker or a blade. Race defeatedly turned away and continued playing. The room was silent for a few moments before Marks spoke.

“You’re being ridiculous, Spot.” The small circle all nodded their agreement, and Race was suddenly very glad they were the only ones in the lodging rooms at that moment. They had left to play some quiet cards among friends, no stakes or bets. 

Marks looked Spot dead in the eyes. “I'm the one acting on more than just gut instinct, Spot. I know it’s hard to distinguish what's right and wrong, and where we stand in the conflict. And what's best for our boys. I know you’re stressed, and scared-” 

“I ain’t scared.” Spot spat at his second. She didn’t miss a beat. 

“-but so are the rest of us. Hell, it’s Race’s borough in the fight. It isn’t fair that you take it out on him.” Marks’ eyes burned with a newfound protectiveness over Race that every other Newsie knew all too well. When Spot was irrational, Marks stood up for the kids who were scared or unable to. 

Spot didn’t break eye contact with Marks as he clenched his fists at his sides. Spot’s nostrils flared. Race, without thinking, moved closer to Marks and further from Spot. 

Spot noticed and stood up suddenly, slamming his hand on the table. “I swear-” He started, and Race held his hands in front of his face defense.

“Spottie, I didn’t mean to-” Race rushed out, but Spot just cursed loudly at him. 

“That’s the biggest lie you’s ever told me, Racetrack! Goddammit, you’s the worst Newsie I’s ever met.” Race looked hurt. 

“Spot, I-”

“ _Go to hell_ , Antonio Higgins.” Spot spat. He turned and left the room, slamming the door so hard it jammed. 

For a moment, nobody spoke. In fact, nobody moved until they heard Race’s quiet whimpers. Marks sprang into action, moving closer the the crying boy and enveloping him tightly in her arms. 

It was at that exact moment that Race realised that for the first time, since even before he dashed across the Brooklyn bridge that sticky evening to ask about Sheepshead, that he was _scared_ of Spot. Not all the time, of course. And not even when they bickered. This was the first time. 

The sobs that followed were not pleasant, but Marks just gripped him tighter and mumbled soothing words into his hair until he pulled away, ready to talk. The other two Newsies looked at him for a moment when he silently nodded, and Marks evenly murmured her first question. 

“Has he ever been like that to you before now?” Race shook his head. Flick stood and pulled a blanket from a Newsie’s bed, wrapping it snug around Race.

“You need to understand, Racer.” Marks began, and Flick soothingly rubbed his back, offering silent reassurance. 

“Spot’s had a rough life, and he is extremely protective of his boys. When things like this come up, he retreats back into what he used to be like.” Race sniffled.

“What’d he used ta’ be?” He asked tearfully. Marks looked almost disgusted as she spoke. 

“Angry. Spot has always been strong, and he decided when he was young that anger was best for him. It was easier and less complicated than letting people in. He's gotten so good, Racer. He’s working so hard to keep you with him.”

Race looked unconvinced. “Is he.” He said bitterly. Flick nodded, sure of him and Marks being right.

“He is. Spottie’s been nicer, an’ more gentle, an’ he used to be rougher- wit’ us and you.” Flick was gaining more confidence as he spoke, draping an arm over Race’s shoulder.  
“Even though he’s got a funny way a’ showin’ it, that boy would give you tha moon on a string if you’s said you wanted it.” Race smiled softly, tears still falling down his face. 

Marks took Race’s hand. 

“Please, please talk to him. He could use somebody like you right now.” She said.

Race nodded his agreement and shakily stood, giving his thanks to both Marks and Flick for helping him out. 

He turned, forced the door open, and dashed out of the lodging house. He knew exactly where he’d find Spot. 

~~~~ 

When Race finally caught up to Spot, he was staring blankly over the water and almost didn’t see Race sit down next to him. 

“Heya, Spottie.” Race mumbled, not moving to touch his boyfriend until he said it was okay. Was Spot even his boyfriend anymore? Race didn’t know. 

Spot looked numb as he responded. “Hi, Tony.” Race knew that was Spot’s favorite pet name for him, along with “Racer”. He only ever called him that when he was hopelessly, truly devoted to the other boy. Race took it as a good sign and kept talking.

“I's sorry, Spot. I should’a paid ya more attention, I know’s you don't like to be touched around the others.” Spot laughed, but it was humorless.

“You ain’t allowed to apologise, Racer. I’s the one who messed up. It was jus’ Marks an’ Flick. I shouldn’t ‘ave been so rude to you. I’s so, so sorry.” He said softly. Race slowly reached over and took Spot’s hand and clasping it tight.

“God, how did I land me a man like you?” Spot asked, kicking his legs off the end of the dock. Race grinned, and Spot drank in every move he made. 

Race always seemed to be drunk on life, and he rarely touched a drop of alcohol. Spot would have been jealous if it didn’t make him to goddamn happy to see. 

For what felt like an eternity, both boys sat on the end of the dock and just drank each other in. Spot’s warm, caring eyes, and Race’s kind, trusting smile. 

Spot had an idea, and grinned wickedly. 

“Racer, you don’t got anythin’ important in your pockets, do ya’?” He asked. Race shook his head, confused. 

“Nah, I don’t.” He responded. Spot’s grin grew ever wider. 

“Perfect.” 

He gripped Race’s biceps tight and pulled his boyfriend down over the edge of the dock with him. 

Boys boys went plunging into the chilling water, pulling themselves to the surface with wide grins and wild eyes. 

“Spot Conlon, you did not just-” Race began to exclaim, but was silenced by the tender kiss placed on his slightly chapped lips. 

Race leaned into the touch immediately, holding tight to Spot and kicking his legs furiously to keep himself up. 

When they decided They'd had enough of the water, the two boys climbed back onto the dock and giggled until they didn’t think they could anymore. 

Race rolled over onto his side, clinging to Spot and looking into his eyes adoringly. Moments passed, and neither spoke for a while. 

When they did, it was _different._

“Tony?” Spot asked, cuddling himself closer to his lover and placing a gentle kiss on his temple. 

“Yeah, Sean?” He responded, sensing the intimacy of the situation and leaning into his touch. 

“I think I might love you.” 

Race’s response was immediate. He pulled Spot ever closer and locked him in a passionate kiss, not breaking it for the world.  
When Spot finally looked away, Race grinned dopely. 

“And, Sean?” He asked timidly, taking in how perfect his boyfriend looked. 

“What is it, Tony?” Spot asked. 

“Me too.” He replied breathlessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it- This scene is actually what inspired this whole fic, so I'm glad we finally got here!
> 
> Bookmarks, Kudos, and comments absolutely make my day, and it makes me so so so happy to read and talk to you guys! 
> 
> I am forever grateful for you guys for sticking around, especially those who started reading my work when I first started out on here, and those who are patient with my irregular posting. The support of people, potientially from all over the world, is so humbling and makes me overflow with joy at even the thought. 
> 
> Words cannot express how much you guys mean to me, and I feel like I owe you guys. Are there any stories, parings, fandom, etc., that you want to see from me? Let me know, I'd be happy to comply! I love conversations in the comments as well, so anything you'd like to say is welcome!
> 
> Love you all so much!
> 
> <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's laptop got fixed?
> 
> So I'll be back to writing and posting frequently, and all the better because we're wrapping up this story pretty soon!
> 
> WARNING: There is a slightly saucy scene followed by some implied smut, so if you don't want to read it, stop at "Spot nodded once, leaning in and giving his lover a quick peck." The scene goes to the end of the chapter. 
> 
> That's all, hope you enjoy!

When Spot sat down with Marks for a leaders’ meeting late one afternoon, he knew what was coming. 

“People are talking, Spot.” Spot inwardly flinched. He was very well aware.

“I can’t fight Snyder if ‘he gets ta me.” Spot mumbled. Marks nodded, understanding. 

“It’s only a rumor.” She tried to reassure. Spot shook his head. 

“You an’ I’ both know it’s more ‘than that.” Marks looked away, refusing to answer in fear of saying the wrong thing. 

“We’ll do what we can to keep you safe, Spot. But we need to talk about something else.”

Spot looked crushed as she spoke, but nodded nontheless. 

“I think we need to keep Race for awhile.” Spot nearly choked as he turned back to face marks. 

“You _what?_ ” Marks held her composure, her jaw painfully clenched and her shoulders back so far Spot thought they might break. Spot recognized the poise as the way Marks best hid fear. 

“Our boys can keep him safer than Manhattan can. The further away from Snyder, the better.” Spot scoffed in disbelief. 

“Sure, but fat chance Kelly would-” Marks but him off sharply, her voice dripping with restrained emotion. 

“He’s already agreed.” 

Spot gaped. 

Marks stood to leave. “I’m going to see Ruffles.” She said simply. Goodbyes were always quick in meetings like this. Both Newsies liked to give each other time to think things over, and talk later. Mushy goodbyes were for social situations, not business. 

“Marks, wait-” He inwardly sighed with relief when she turned to face him. 

“I’s gonna meet Racer later today at the bridge. I’ma tell him then.” Spot muttered. Marks smiled halfheartedly. 

“Good.” She responded simply. 

“One more thin’.” Spot rushed out, nervously picking at a loose thread at the hem of his pants. Marks simply raised an eyebrow. 

“What is it?” She asked. 

“Why’s you so buddy buddy with Ruffles all ofa sudden?” Marks grimaced, and Spot knew he’d asked the wrong question. Her tone was clipped when she responded. 

“She’s like me, Spot. She lived the same life I have, and I need to show her that there _is_ good in the world. I know I didn’t think so when I was her age.”

Without another word, Marks turned on her heel and left. 

~~~~

In the shadowed alley, Race pressed up against Spot desperately, whining when he pulled away. 

“Race.” Spot said firmly, gently pushing Race off of him. 

“Racer, we’s gonna have time to make out later. There's somethin’ I gotta ask ya’.” Race furrowed his brows but huddled close to Spot, cuddling into him as much as possible. 

“An’ what’s so important that it gets in ‘the way of me lovin’ on ya’?” Race drawled, and Spot rolled his eyes. 

“You’s gonna to stay in Brooklyn.” Spot said simply. Race tensed slightly, and Spot pretended not to notice. 

“And why would I be doin’ that?” Race joked, but Spot knew that tone. They had spent enough time together that both boys were open books to the other. 

“I know you’s heard the humors, Snyder’s got it out for me, and you, too. We can keep ya safer than ‘Hattan can. An’ we’s further away.” Race thought for a moment, and Spot added “Kelly’s given his permission, an’ you can stay in my bed so’s you’s nice and toasty.” Race wiggled his eyebrows, and Spot nodded along with a low chuckle. 

“I’d love ta’ room with you an’ your ugly mug for a bit.” Race beamed. Spot grinned, too. His happiness was contagious, and Spot intended to soak up every bit of it that he could. 

“Perfect, shall I escort ‘ya to your new room?” Spot teasingly took Race’s arm, leading them out of the alley and into the bright sun of the streets of New York City.

They walked in relative silence, only stopping to say hi to other Newsies or gawk at the meny scenes the city had to offer. 

When they finally arrived back at the lodging house, Race made his way immediately to the dining hall to talk with the other kids. 

The younger ones were immediately drawn to him, asking for more drawings and to keep teaching them. Spot sat back and chatted with Marks, all the while watching Race’s face light up as he explained new topics. One girl dropped a bombshell, announcing proudly that she had found her family, and was starting school in a week. She said tonight was her last night at the house, and the Newsies freaked.

In a huge mass of screaming and hugs, slaps on the back the congratulations, Race stood and smiled so genuinely as he spoke to the girl, that Spot fell in love all over again. 

Marks commented on how Race never seemed to have a care in the world, even when things bothered him, and Spot hummed his agreement. Race was an optimist at heart, and even through the grim circumstances and his sharp tongue, it was made abundantly clear in that moment.

When the celebrations ended, and the boys went up to settle down for bed, Race had a smile still plastered on his face.

“Did’ja hear that, Spottie? We’s got a kid Newsie who found a family, an’ she’s goin ta school!” 

Spot nodded once, leaning in and giving his lover a quick peck.

“I knows, Racer. Lay down. You’s still got ta’ work tomorrow.” Spot mumbled, grabbing a shirt from the neat pile next to his bed and pulling his shirt off quickly. Race stopped moving for a brief moment before regaining composure, and Spot smirked.

“What’s got ya’ all hot and bothered, Racetrack?” He said. Race gave him the finger, but stepped closer regardless, his eyes trailing downwards and roaming Spot’s toned chest.

“Well damn Spottie, I wish I’da known you was this in shape before.” He mumbled, getting even closer as Spot’s grin grew wider.

“I don’t like to show myself off to just _anyone_ , then it’s not as special.” Spot drawled in return, closing the distance between them to engage a deep kiss. The two fought for dominance until Spot gave a sharp tug to Race’s soft locks, causing him to moan loudly and pull them both down to the bed. Race pulled away with lust printed all over his face.

“I think I’s gonna like Brooklyn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so how do we feel about this chapter? The next one's gonna be a bombshell, and I'm sorry in advance for it.
> 
> I hope everybody likes the story so far!
> 
> I'm not above begging for comments just yet, talking to you guys fills me with so much joy and seeing the feedback people have is so humbling. 
> 
> Have a great day, love you all!
> 
> <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm s o r r y.
> 
> NOTE: This story takes place pre-canon

Early the next morning, Marks knocked gently on the boys’ door and peeked her head inside timidly. Newsies were notoriously light sleepers, after so many years of waking up to trouble, and Spot and Race were up in an instant.

It was then that Marks realised just the situation they were in as Spot pulled his threadbare blanket over both boys, their faces flushing red. Marks grinned in response to the scene and spoke softly.

“I’m going to wait outside so you two can, uh- Get dressed.” She coughed in embarrassment before continuing. “We have to go over to Manhattan to get Race’s things, and we’re all going to go together just in case.” She finished, closing the door as Spot waved her out of the room.

A few minutes later, and the trio were sharing a small loaf of bread and lacing their shoes to go out before the circulation bell rang. Technically, there were no laws stating that Newsies could not be out before the circulation bell rang, as they were within curfew. They couldn’t legally be arrested.

With gentle smiles and tired eyes, all three kids set out to the streets together, walking happily towards the Manhattan lodging house.

Race had sped up and gone ahead of the others, grinning as he jogged and took in the city around him. 

It was moments like these, when the city was quiet and peaceful, and there was a thin layer of crisp dew blanketing every surface, that Spot knew exactly why he stayed. He thought of the kids he had to protect, and the people he spent his time around. His regulars, who sometimes gave him candies that he gave to kids he would see, or the boys who stuck up for each other even when it would have been easier to bail.

Spot was snapped back into the world when Race picked up his pace, and started to teasingly make faces at Marks and Spot as he looked down alleys and looked at what laid within them.

They went like this for a few blocks, until they neared the bridge. Race looked down an alley with the intention of making a silly face as he looked back, but his expression fell as he gazed. Spot and Marks picked up speed when Race slowly stepped into the passage.

There was a faint squeal from Race. Spot and Marks broke into a sprint, trying to get to the scene as fast as possible.

They stopped as soon as they made it. Race wasn’t being beaten, he was huddled over something near the corner. There was an expression of heartbroken disbelief written across his face.

Spot placed a gentle hand on Race’s shoulder before he could see what he was huddled over. 

It was dead silent until Race shifted his weight and scooped up the lump, bringing it into the light. Marks immediately let out a choked sob and Spot felt as though the ground was collapsing beneath him.

There, in Race’s arms, was Ruffles’ limp body. She was pale and covered in bruises, so much so she was almost unrecognisable. Marks staggered back until her back slammed against the wall, and she sank down to the floor with a look of panic on her face. She started speaking quickly, so fast her words were almost unidentifiable.

“Race, give her to Spot and go get your stuff. I’ll run back and get catch and he can fix her up she’ll be okay in a couple of days and-” She continued rambling, and Spot gave a glance over to Race. He shook his head, and a silent understanding passed between them. Spot crouched down and placed a gentle hand on Marks’ shoulder.

“Marks, stop.” His voice was firm, but caring. Marks met his gaze. “She doesn’t- Catch can’t fix it up this time, Edith. I’m sorry.” Marks broke down and clutched Spot’s shirt tightly, leaning against his frame as she sobbed desperately. Race set Ruffles down out of sight and worked on examining her. SIlent tears fell down his face, alone with Spot’s, and for awhile nobody spoke. There was nothing to say.

Spot pulled away to talk to Race. They whispered so as to keep things away from Marks for the time being. The two girls had gotten close recently, and Marks had practically torn up Brooklyn looking for her the previous night.

“What happened?” Spot hissed. Race’s tears grew heavier.

“The Delanceys and Snyder. See those marks? They’s brass knuckles. The shape perfectly matches my-” Race’s voice hitched and he pulled up his sleeve. “Scars.” He finished, and both boys stared and Ruffles for too long to make things better.

Ruffles had always radiated life, she was pure and honest and kind. Her presence in a room or on a street never went unnoticed, she was simply such a good kid. And as the boys looked at her _body,_ lifeless and empty, Spot felt rage bubble up inside him. He turned away and cried out in anger. 

“Goddammit!!” He exclaimed, mindlessly punching the alley wall in desperation. He didn’t stop, throwing punch after punch, even as Race stood and desperately tried to pull him away for his own sake.

“Spottie, _please._ This isn’t helping, stop it!” Race finally snapped, gripping Spot tightly and throwing his weight to the ground, dragging them both to the dirty floor of the passageway. Marks still sobbed, and it was silent again, until Spot mumbled.

“I’s gonna kill the Delanceys for this.” He gritted, and Race clung to him tightly, shaking his head. 

“We have to go back and tell the others.” Race said, but his voice was hoarse and weak. Marks nodded her agreement, but first added that she would call the police and the others should go back now. Spot and Race agreed and hugged Marks tight before heading to Manhattan to tell the Newsies, and the far less important task of getting Race’s things.

“Shit.” Spot mumbled as they walked stiffly towards the bridge. Race just nodded.

“They’s never gone this far before. Never. I’s gonna have their head if they does anythin’ else.” Race sighed heavily and threw his arm around Spot, letting the shorter boy lean into him. Race knew there was nothing either of them could do to stop this from happening, or to prevent whatever could come next.

Little did they know it would not be anything good.

~~~~

 

Marks stood after paying her respects to Ruffles, and trying to tidy her up as much as possible. She turned and left the narrow passage of the alley, sucking in a sharp breath when she saw two figures silhouetted against the sun. The only duo she knew that would be out at this hour of the morning, in those god awful bowler caps. Her stomach sank as they grew nearer. Marks tensed and thought of Ruffles, and her grim fate. She decided she would take the same if she could take them down with her.

Marks gripped the switchblade in her pocket, a last minute addition to her ensemble before she left, and thanked her lucky stars she had it with her now.

“Well, if it ain’t Marks-y, the pet of the Brooklyn Newsies.” Marks scowled as they neared her, backing up before they could circle her. It was still to early for anybody to pay the kids any mind, and Marks made notes of the ways she could run if she had to.

“Go to Hell.” She spat. Oscar grinned.

“An’ I suppose we’s gonna see Ruffles there.” Morris threw an unexpected punch that nicked Marks’ jaw. She noted that they were wearing brass knuckles. The same ones that had killed Ruffles.

“You murdered a little girl in cold blood. What is wrong with you?” Marks asked. Morris looked at her with anger and threw another punch. Oscar joined in, and even with Marks fighting with a knife, she was quickly overwhelmed and thrown against the wall, kicked to the ground.

Marks smiled sarcastically, spitting blood from her teeth as she was kicked again.

“And I suppose you’ll do the same thing to me as you did to Ruffles?” She asked. Oscar grinned and shook out his blood stained knuckles.

“Nah, we’s gonna have a whole lot more fun with you.” He said. And with that, Morris gave one well placed punch to Marks’ temples, sending her tumbling to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is was. Shit goes down from here on out. I'm still sorry but also not really I knew this would happen when I made Ruffles up to begin with.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, even if they are just to yell at me for killing a favorite. 
> 
> Love you all!
> 
> <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lookie there's a new chapter isn't that exciting

Spot was too tired to remember how exactly it had happened, but he had the major points down pat.

The boys made it to the Manhattan lodging house and Race sobbed as Spot explained what had happened. Jack nodded and told the two to get out as soon as they could, the Delanceys hadn’t been seen and could be anywhere. The agreed, collected Race’s things and let him say his temporary goodbyes, before rushing back to Brooklyn.

When they arrived at the Brooklyn lodging house, they were shocked to find that nobody had seen Marks, but brushed it off as her taking longer with the police. Spot had an awful feeling, though. Race told the Brooklyn Newsies about Ruffles and the outrage was immediate. Some kids stepped up to spread the word to the other boroughs and get them to find and soak the brothers. 

Race and Spot sat down after the entire ordeal, and Spot leaned into his boyfriend exhaustedly, closing his eyes and sighing.

“Racer, what is we gonna do?” He asked, and Race knew he wasn’t all there by the sleep tracing his voice.

“We’s gonna be just fine, Spottie. I promise.” He replied, gently stroking Spot’s inky black locks. “But we’s still gotta sell today.” He added, nearly grinning when Spot shook his head and weakly pushed the two down on the bed, humming his content and promptly falling asleep.

Race sighed heavily and pulled a blanket over both of them, closing his eyes and joining Spot in rest.

~~~~~

 

Marks awoke to the taste of blood in her mouth. And a blindfold over her eyes, a gag in her mouth, and her limbs bound tightly to an old, sturdy chair. A headache pounded through her skull, making her feel as though her head might burst at any moment.

She tried to scream, but the gag stopped her. Quickly, she discovered that trying to move would be futile, she was completely bound and there was no way for her to get out.

There was a noise. A simple stirring sound that pushed adrenaline through her veins and caused her to flinch before she even heard a voice. 

“Look who’s awake, Morris.” Oscar called, and judging by his echo, they were in a large space. LIkely an abandoned warehouse or vacant business building.

It didn’t matter now, though, as she felt the gag being pulled from her mouth. Marks tried to scream, but was slapped across the face before she could make a sound. She could practically hear the sneers the brothers wore with such pride.

“Now you’s gonna listen to us, dumb broad. If we hears so much as a peep from you, Spot gets it and you’ll never live to find out how bad it is.” One spat, and Marks clenched her jaw tight. If they got to Spot, they would get to Race, too. WIthout anybody to lead, Brooklyn would be torn apart by the police and gangsters out to make a quick buck. 

So, she held her tongue as one of them continued, their voices to similar for her to make out which one it was without being able to see. 

“We’s gonna ask you a few questions, an’ we wants your honest answers.” He said, and Marks grimaced. This is how it would go, then.

She nodded, gulping heavily when the felt the end of what had to be a cane pressed into her chest.

“Vocal answers, please.” One said. Marks felt like sobbing, but realised that for her friends to stay safe she’d have to hold it back. At least until they left her alone.

“Okay. Honest answers, got it.” She said, letting out a breath when they pulled the cane away from her.

She heard the unmistakable sound of knuckles cracking.

“Alright, so. What’s your relation to Spot Conlon an’ Brooklyn.” 

“I’m Spot’s friend and the second in command of Brooklyn.” Marks replied. 

“What is your relationship to Racetrack?” The other one asked. 

“I’m just a friend of his.” She answered.

Marks could practically feel their eagerness to beat her to a pulp. One of them got close and grabbed her by the jaw, forcing her face upwards roughly.

“This is the part where you tell us everything you know, or we’s gonna kill you an’ your dear old friends.” She flinched at the words, but tried to keep her composure. The grip on her jaw tightened.

“What was your involvement in the jailbreak at the Refuge?” He asked. Marks gulped.

It had been Spot’s idea, but Marks had orchestrated most of it. She had informed and convinced Manhattan to help, and had gotten the supplies needed. Still, Spot planned and carried out most everything on his own.

“It was completely my idea. And my doing.” She said, whimpering in pain when a sharp slap landed itself across her cheek.

“Really, is that so? Because we’s heard some rumors that it was Spot’s doin’.” Marks smiled.

“Of course you did. People blame him for everything, good or bad. It was my doing.” She said. 

Another slap, then a punch. Then a few more. Then, nothing.

She felt the gag being tied back over her mouth, and bit one of the Delancey’s hands. He cursed, and she felt a quick cut make its way across her cheekbone. Groaning in pain, she heard a large warehouse door slide open and back shut.

It was then Marks realised that she really could die here.

~~~~~

Spot and Race were inseparable for the next few days as they searched for Marks. The police had found Ruffles, but said that they hadn’t once seen Marks. Neither boy said it, but as the manhunt dragged on for days, they were all losing faith finding her. 

Race had never seen Spot so miserable. Christmas was coming up, a time that people said usually made him happier than ever, but it seemed to have no effect on him, other than his worry that his boys would freeze to death. 

He even went so far as to place a ban on searching for Marks after dark because they could get too cold or freeze in the sleet and snow.

Race tried, every night, to snap Spot out of it, but to no avail. He came into their room one night with a new plan, sitting down on the bed and sketching after filling in his nightly journal entry.

When Spot came in from bathing after their search, Race looked him over with so much care and worry Spot thought he might burst. 

Race waited in silence for his boyfriend to get dressed, but as soon as Spot sat on the bed, Race enveloped him in his arms as tightly as he could.

“What’s this about, Racer?” Spot asked, a light blush spreading across hi cheeks.

“Oh, nothin’. It’s just that I love ya’ so much.” Spot grumbled a little, but laced his arms around the other boy’s begrudgingly, pulling them down to relax for bed. Both had spent the past few nights pretending they didn’t notice that the other had barely slept a wink.

“Hey, Sean?” Race asked carefully, looking lovingly into his eyes and stroking his inky locks out of his face.

“What’s is it, Tony?” Spot replied. Race hummed and pecked him gently on the lips.

“It’s gonna be okay, you’s got my word. I love ya’.” 

Spot grinned, just a little, for the first time in days.

“I loves ya’ too, baby.” 

They held each other through the whole night, a tangle of limbs and warmth and care and love. Neither boy had to pretend not to notice the other being awake, because for the first time since Marks went missing, both got a decent night’s sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Thoughts, questions, concerns? Leave 'em in the comments!
> 
> Love you all, have a great day!
> 
> <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here she is- Pain but kinda happiness but more pain?
> 
> It's weird you'll see
> 
> ALSO because Spot's cane does make an appearance in this chapter- The character is the character from the musical in every way other than I gave him the dumb little cane from the movie because I _love_ it.

Marks didn’t know exactly how much time had passed. It could have been days, it could have been weeks. Marks had no idea. She was still blindfolded, and her former strength had left her body. She was no longer the strong willed second in command of Brooklyn, but rather a frail, frightened child.

Her headache had only worsened and she barely bothered to move her head because of the way it throbbed and ached. Her wrists and ankles were still bound, and her back cried out every time she tried to move it. Her mouth was so dry she could barely talk, and she gulped down what little the Delanceys gave her with such eagerness one could think it had the value of gold.

Marks answered every question thrown at her without hesitation, but held back the important things. Her thoughts were so cloudy she could barely keep up with what lies she had told and which ones she had to keep up with to0 keep her friends safe, but her loyalty held strong.

The girl could _feel_ herself dying, and she almost wished her pain to just end. Every part of her hurt, and she flinched at the slightest noise. Nightmares she hadn’t been subjected to for years reared their ugly heads, and Marks just wished it would end. Wished the Delanceys would be done, wished Spot would come save her, wished she would just die already, _anything_. 

Marks gave a small intake of breath as the sound she had come to know and dread so much returned. The door slid open. The Delanceys were back.

~~~~~

“It’s been over a week, Spot.” Diamond pleaded with him. Race gave the leader of Queens a rotten look, but before he could say anything Spot had turned on his heel and slapped the older leader straight across the cheek.

Diamond yelped before clenching his fists and tensing for a fight, but Spot just glared with a look of steel.

“Would you stop lookin’ if one of ya’ best friends just went missin’ one day?” When Diamond didn’t answer, Spot grinned smugly, though there was ho happiness in it.

“Didn’t think so.” He finished before turning back around and leaving the Queens lodging house with Race on his heels. It was his turn to plead.

“Spottie, please-” Spot glared at him, as well.

“Don’t call me that.” He gritted through his teeth. Race grabbed onto his wrist tight and yanked it, forcing Spot to face him. 

“I’s gonna call ya’ that all I wants to. And ya’ wanna know why? Because I cares about you, Sean. More than anyone else in the world. An’ you know it’s true.” When Spot looked away in lou of responding, Race gave him a tight hug.

“Please. I ain’t sayin’ ya gotta give up- Hell, I ain’t gonna give up lookin’. But ya’ gotta take a deep breath. We need’s ya’ alive to look for Marks. An’ I promise when we find her, you’s gonna be the one to do the honors. Ya deserve it.” 

Spot gripped Race back tight, holding him like a lifeline.

“Okay, Racer. I’s gonna trust ya’. Let’s go find our friend.” Race pulled away and grinned a little, the turning to dash towards Brooklyn to figure out exactly where their friend would be. 

When they had made it to the bench outside Brooklyn lodging, they sat down to discuss the details. Both boys felt as though they had just started to make real progress on finding Marks.

“Alright, so she can’t be too far from where we found Ruffles, people woulda seen them if they was draggin’ her too far.” Race nodded his agreement and thought about the area.

“We’s already looked at the warehouses and vacant business lots aroun’ there. I can’t think of anywhere else she could be, other than…” Spot trailed off, alluding to the worst case scenario. Race’s face lit up, and he slapped Spot on the arm.

“Spot- That vacant floor of the apartment building. It’s right there!” He exclaimed, and Spot looked at him incredulously. 

“Holy shit. We’s got ta go get Jack.” 

The boys sprinted inside and got Flick, who was physically strong and plenty brave enough for the job. They ran together nearly the whole distance to the Manhattan lodging, catching trolley and carriage rides where they could. Jack had called dibs on the mission when the police stopped looking, so he could get in revenge in on his time spent at the Refuge.

When they got there, they excitedly dashed up the stairs to the fire escape, yanking Jack along as they explained the situation. They all made their way back, the four of them able to pay for a cab with the extra money they had set aside. They were at the apartment building in record time.

“Alright, it’s first floor.” Spot said. He remembered when this floor was vacated from a gas leak and never refurbished. He had never thought anything would come of it.

Spot led the way, his heart pounding as the other boys followed him closely and silently. They all carried knives in case things got too intense, but only intended to use them if needed. They decided on the way that they weren’t going to kill a Delancey, that people would uproar if a member of the upper class were murdered. There was an unspoken agreement that none of them could stomach to kill a man. Nobody voiced it.

Still, they tiptoed in until they heard a distinct voice.

“I’s gonna ask ya’ one last time. Where the _hell_ does you all hide after curfew?” A voice sneered. Race shook and Spot gripped his cane in anger. They all waited with bated breath for a response.

“None of your goddamn business.” It was unmistakably Marks’ voice, but it was frail and weak. There was the sound of a blow landing, and Marks whimpering in pain. Spot shoved open the door and the scene froze.

Marks, head lolled to one side, grinned bitterly at the brothers, who stopped in their tracks. One of them cursed as they revealed themselves to be some of the most physically capable, and tough Newsies New York City had to offer.

The moment passed by in a haze. Spot turned his attention to beating the life out of the Delanceys along with Flick and Jack. Spot’s cane proved itself handy as he beat Morris to unconsciousness while Jack and Flick handled Oscar. Race busied himself with unting Marks, and fleeing outside to call an ambulance.

When all was said and done, and the ambulance had driven away with only Marks inside, the boys sat down to breathe. There was happiness that Marks was safe, sure, but there was a bittersweet feeling hanging over all of them.

“They said she’s probably’ in a coma.” Jack remarked. Spot nodded.

“Yea’, she is.” He said. Flick looked lost.

“What the hell even _is_ a coma?” Race chuckled for a moment, but stopped when the others hummed their curiosity as well. They all looked to Race for an explanation.

“It’s uh- it’s like when a person gets beat up real bad or doesn’t get enough air, an’ they sleep for a long time.” He explained. Spot looked terrified as he spoke.

“So, it’s like dyin’?” He asked. Race shook his head.

“Nah, Spot. It ain’t like dyin’. A lot of times people wakes up, but sometimes they doesn’t. If they doesn’t, the doctor just put ‘em out of their misery. Marks, though. She’ll be just peachy in a couple a weeks. She’s a tough girl.” Spot nodded, but asked again. He couldn’t get the question out of his head.

“But there’s a chance she ain’t gonna make it?” He asked. Race hesitated, but nodded.

“Yeah, there is.” 

Silence fell over the boys for a while until Race lit up a cigar, passing it around to the immense thanks of the other boys.

“Damn.” Jack said.

Without saying a word, everyone agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... That happened. 
> 
> The angst train still hasn't rolled out of the station so buckle up kiddos, we've got a long way to go
> 
> Comments, thoughts, questions, concerns? Leave 'em in the comments, please!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You remember what I said about the angst train? 
> 
> I wasn't joking.

Over the time that had passed, Spot felt nothing but numb. He was up early every morning, talking to Race for a little while before throwing clothes on and getting ready for the day.

Sales had been up significantly, and since it was common information on the street that Marks and Spot were close, and her name had been published in the article, he had received more pity donations than he ever had in his life.

Every penny of it went to Marks. Hell, every spare penny any Newsie had went to Marks. Keeping her alive was not cheap, and as days passed, the situation just became more and more bleak. Spot had detached himself so far that even Race couldn’t get through to him. 

One day, when Spot finished his sales, he turned on his heel to go straight to the hospital. He paid the bill for the next week and was thankful to find he’d have enough to make sure the other kids got to eat. Usually, he’d be ecstatic for this amount of money, but he felt nothing.

The hospital was bright and sterile, and a nurse he had encountered a few times nodded politely at him. He nodded back, but that was the extent of their conversation.

The whole building smelled strongly of alcohol, and as he made his way down the hall, he wondered why it was always so quiet. Like everybody was holding their breath.

The people he was used to were loud and raunchy, bold and fearless and _alive_. The people in the hospital spoke in low voices and had to explain all the fancy words they used to him. They seemed so dull and reserved and, in a way, afraid. Maybe it was dying they were afraid of, or someone they loved dying. Spot didn’t know. He’d never been afraid of death until this entire catastrophe.

As he pushed open the heavy door to Marks’ room, a young nurse nodded and told him to shout if anything happened. Spot nodded his understanding and she left the room.

Race pulled a chair up to Marks’ bedside, silently observing her. If it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of her chest, Spot would think they were lying and she had died a long time ago. Bruises, cuts, and bumps covered every inch of her body, even the birthmarks that were her namesake and made her so unique. She was pale everywhere she wasn’t beaten, however. Spot was forced to notice, despite his pessimism, that Marks looked far better than she had when he was first allowed to see her.

He looked her over and sighed, gripping her hand tight.

“Hiya, Marks.” Spot said. Only silence in response.

“Racer told me this morning that you’s can hear me and if I tell ya’ stories it’s gonna make ya’ wake up sooner.” He squeezed her hand and wished more than anything that it could give him the comfort it usually did. Now, it just made him think of how cold she was.

“So I’s gonna tell you a story, and you’s gonna like it.” He said. On a whim, Spot stood and closed the curtain around the bed before returning. It felt like a private moment, even though there was nobody else in the room.

“I remember when you first saw me an’ you was askin’ for help. We was so young, who’da thought we was gonna end up here?” He asked rhetorically, failing to notice the door’s near silent open and the lanky boy that crept through, stopping to listen through the curtain. Race hadn’t been expecting anything to come out of his recommendation, but the doctor had sworn up and down that it worked. That they could hear you. He was silent as Spot continued talking.

“An’ you was so scared, but I was, too. Ta’ be around such a pretty girl. An’ you’s always been there for me. Remembe’ when I told ya’ I was a confirmed bachelor? You was so supportive of me, and you kept that secret until it got out by itself.” Spot rambled, and Race could hear the telltale signs that he was close to tears.

“An’ when I got ta bein’ leader, you was always my first pick. You’s so smart, Marks. You’s the reason we’s still goin’ so strong. Our boys is tough, sure, but you’s the genius behind the whole operation.” Race grinned as Spot continued.

“I know you ain’t much of a sap, but you’s so, so brave. Those goddamn Delanceys had you for so long, and we heard ya’, keepin our secrets and bein so strong. I’s so sorry we didn’t get to ya earlier, Marks. I ain’t ready to give ya up just yet. You, Flick, an’ Race is my family, an’ I can’t lose any one of ya or else I don’t know what I’d do. Please, Marks, ya gots to wake up.” Spot finished and Race walked around the curtain, sneaking behind Spot to give him a tight hug from behind. Spot jumped and his face flushed.

“How much did’ja hear?” He asked. Race simply hugged him tighter. 

“Everythin’.” Was his simple reply.

That stayed like that, in thick silence, for a long time. Neither wanted to move in fear of losing the other’s touch, and neither was able to tear their eyes from Marks in hopes she would stir.

She didn’t.

After far too long like that, a nurse stepped into the room. They were safe because of the curtain, but Spot and Race leapt away from each other like the other was suddenly burning hot. The same nurse from earlier peeked her head inside and smiled at them brightly.

“Sorry to inform you, but visiting hours are over. You boys need to go.” Her voice was high pitched and she practically reeked of upper class, but both boys nodded and said their quick goodbyes to Marks before leaving the room and walking briskly out of the tense waiting room into the chilly New York streets. 

It was winter now, and though it was a tame one, it was still colder than either had anticipated when they prepared for an inch or two of snow. It was _cold._ Race lit up a cigar and the boys shared it until they returned to the lodging house, entering the warm, loud house gratefully.

It was near silent compared to what it usually was, but boys still discussed and joked as much as they could. 

Spot and Race got their food quickly and sat down, eating side by side and in complete silence. Nobody approached them, and the two washed their dishes and went upstairs to lay down.

Even though neither of them said anything, as they changed and exchanged goodnight kisses, they both had the same thought nagging at them. When they blew out the lamps illuminating the room, and slotted together, Race curled protectively around Spot, they didn’t say what was on their minds. 

Even late into the night, they didn’t speak or mention it, even though it was tearing them both up inside.

_What if Marks didn’t survive?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of notes going in here, and a LOT of them are nerdy so don't feel pressured to read them if you don't want to. This stuff is pretty cool, though.
> 
> Alright so Marks is in a coma, and true story, coma patients can hear everything people say to them unless they are in incredibly critical condition, which she is not. Talking to loved ones is also proven to help speed up the recovery process. (Source: https://www.medicaldaily.com/can-coma-patients-hear-you-families-should-tell-stories-loved-ones-coma-319148). 
> 
> Here's the source that I used for all of my coma info, a lot more of which will come into play later: https://www.webmd.com/brain/coma-types-causes-treatments-prognosis#1
> 
> Unless you couldn't get it already, a "confirmed bachelor" was a term used to describe (generally younger) gay men in the late 1800's. This was because being gay was so stigmatized it was called the "Unspeakable Crime." And we didn't even really have terms for it yet because everybody was so afraid of it. Also, if you were wondering why Spot and Race were so physical with each other in public it's because being gay was so unacceptable that men were very amorous with each other and nobody thought anything of it.   
> ~~~~  
> How do you feel about all the notes? A lot of research goes into each chapter, so if you like it, I'll gladly post the stuff that I read leading up to each new post!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I did writing it! I'm having a great time with this story, so comments and feedback are GREATLY appreciated! 
> 
> Unrelated, there's this photography series called "Homo History" and it's a whole bunch of photos of gay men (And a few lesbians) from a while back. They are nothing if not sweet and pure and adorable and here's the link to a collage of some of my favorites (Please look they will melt your heart they're so sweet) :https://www.fusemagazine.com.au/images/2017/features/WW11-Gay-Soldiers-Love-letters.jpg
> 
> Love you all! 
> 
> <3


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some more have fun!

She didn’t look better. Everybody had been through, and they had all noticed it. Nobody said anything when Spot stopped talking nearly altogether, even taking care to avoid speaking to Flick when possible. He only spoke to Race.

The boys had also pretended not to notice when Race came home late, Spot in his arms and tears in his eyes. They avoided talking about it whenever they could, and it was accepted that they would remain this way until Marks’ condition changed in one way or another. 

Still, people worried. Nobody more than Race, however. He had seen what things like these could do to a person, and it was all he could do to keep Spot selling during the day to help pay the bills. Race brought home extra money from betting on the races, as well as selling tips on the outcome for money. In reality, that alone could pay the bill, but Race needed something to occupy Spot’s time with. Something he was good at, just to keep his mind away from things.

That’s why Race almost stopped dead when he and Spot were walking to the hospital one evening, and Spot commented, nonchalantly, that he was going to stop selling.

“No you are not.” Race returned as they made it into the hospital and took their seats in the waiting room until they were let into Marks’ room. Spot just shrugged.

“I don’t see a point anymore.” He deadpanned, and Race felt his heart shatter. Spot both looked and sounded so heartbroken, so lost and defenseless, that Race could have just as well been talking to a kicked puppy as the ferocious leader of Brooklyn.

“What do you mean?” He asked, disheartened.

“I mean- look at all of this. Ruffles is gone, maybe Marks too, and for what? A couple good sellin’ days? Some extra coins ta save up? It ain’t worth it, Racer. Not by a long shot.” 

Race sighed and put his arms gently around Spot’s shoulders. “I know it sucks to be us right now, but I swear, soon we’ll be golden soon. Marks is gonna wake up, and we’s gonna be okay.” Race said, but his voice was so faint he barely even believed himself.

As if on cue, the nurse came by and allowed them into the room, and the conversation was dropped as soon as they walked in. Anything they were quarreling about always was the moment they saw Marks. It always seemed to remind them of what was important and who really mattered to them.

Today, when Spot raced to Marks’ side, and slotted his hand in with hers, his face almost seemed to light up. Race rushed over to see what was going on.

“She feels warmer, doesn’t she?” Spot said incredulously. He looked close to tears. Race looked up at the nurse, a kinder young woman who had been greeting them and helping them out for a few days. She had caught them in a more than friendly exchange and hurriedly explained that she was once a Newsie and would gladly take that room and keep the whole thing a secret. She stood in the doorway and beamed widely and Spot looked up, too. 

“She woke up today.” The nurse said, and Spot smiled so wide Race might have thought his cheeks would split if he didn’t have one to match. They both exclaimed their happiness and ran over to hug and thank the nurse, then each other, and then to look at Marks.

The nurse was in the midst of explaining that Marks likely wouldn’t awaken for a few more hours when the girl twitched. Spot broke down into tears, pulling her still sleeping body up to hug her tight, which in turn woke her up. Race waved awkwardly as she smiled a hazy, sleepy smile.

“Hey there, Spottie.” She said sleepily, her eyes fluttering open to take in the scene and hug Spot back. They thanked the nurse once more and she left the room.

Spot’s words left him like a dam breaking. He spoke for what could have been hours, but felt like mere seconds, and he told Marks everything. Everything that had happened to her, to him, to Race, to Brooklyn, and everything in between. When he finally pulled away, Race took his turn hugging her. 

Marks explained that she would have to stay at the hospital a few more days, to Spot’s great protest, but Race’s reluctant understanding. They stayed until they were practically dragged out of the room by a stern looking nurse, and they dashed home to greet the other boys, but not before stopping to spend all their extra money on liquor for the night. 

They walked in, to a quiet lodging house, with broad smiles plastered over their faces. Every single kid in the house looked at them expectantly, and Race stepped back to let Spot do the honors.

“She awake!” He exclaimed, and the house lit up with excitement. Other boys ran down the street to get more alcohol, they dusted off and brought out the cards and games, ate far more than they usually would, and didn’t regret a single moment of it.

Sure, they would wake up with pounding headaches tomorrow, but they would do so knowing that Marks was alive and well, and would be back to the house in a few days, happy as ever.

For the following hours, Spot and Race were practically attached to one another, playing games as a team and toasting to every glass they tossed down their throats. Even though Marks wasn’t physically there, they all knew how much she loved a good party and decided they would save every extra cent they had until Marks came home to throw her a Welcome Home party.

So, when Spot and Race retired into bed that night, smiled still plastered across their faces, it felt so easy to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have a lot to say about this chapter other than I figure you've all been miserable long enough- Here's some happiness for you.
> 
> I really, really hope you enjoyed! Comments and feedback make me the happiest girl in the world!
> 
> Love you all!
> 
> <3


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This had to happen.

Ruffles’ funeral came on sooner than expected. It wasn’t going to be anything fancy, of course, but it was something. 

The day of, it was quiet in the lodging house. Every boy who could afford to was taking off of work, and even more bought flowers in advance to be brought to the ceremony. Newsies from every borough were going to be there, and it was abundantly clear as they gathered their things and walked to the graveyard where she would be buried.

They had no venue, but they had pulled some tricks and been allowed to speak before they locked her away below the earth. Employees said they would be back in an hour to bury her, and all tried their best to ignore the large hole in the ground barely ten feet away.

As the kids made it to the graveyard and sat down on the grass around the small coffin, it fell deadly silent.

Spot and Race sat next to one another, their hands clasped tightly together and Race’s side pressed into Spot’s. He looked close to tears already, and nobody had spoken. Marks, who had been sitting to their left, stood silently and stepped up so that she stood behind the coffin, addressing the crowd of kids.

“First of all, I’d like to thank you all for coming.” She began, wrapping her jacket tight around herself and shivering a little before continuing. It was the dead of winter now, and Christmas was barely a week away. The sun was still sunk below the horizon, with street lights illuminating the field in a dim, hazy glow. 

Spot and Race huddled even closer as Marks continued.

“I’d like to thank the funeral home for allowing us to do this.” She said. “And I want to start this off by saying that though it is sad for us to have to be here, Ruffles would be so proud-” She paused to sniffle a little bit. “-to see us all gathered here, forgetting our differences to commemorate a life worth remembering.” There was a round of cheers before it fell quiet again, and Marks spoke.

“I want to talk a little bit about what knowing Ruffles was like, because I think we can all agree that she was a joy to be around. Such an intelligent girl, with so much passion and happiness for everything around her, it wa-is impossible not to love her. She was one of the strongest kids I’ve ever met, and she spoke with such conviction and confidence that even being near her was enough to brighten your day.” Marks sniffled again and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. 

“I think I speak for all of us when I say that had this not happened, Ruffles would have gone on to do great things. She was a Newsie in her soul, and a scholar in brains. She was free spirited and wise so far beyond her years, and in the short time we knew her, she grew and learned so much. This is a time to really, truly appreciate who she was. Anybody can speak, but a few people have made requests to come up before we open it to anybody. First on that list is Spot Conlon.” Marks finished speaking and wiped her eyes yet again, letting out a silent sob and sitting next to Race when Spot stood, leaning against him. The two had tears flowing freely down their faces, but they clung to each other like life rafts.

Spot took his place in the spot Marks had left, folding his hands and taking a deep breath. He told himself he wasn’t going to cry until he sat down, and was determined to hold it together. He looked over the kids and spoke.

“I miss her.” He said. “I think we all do. But there are so many moments to look back at and smile about. I remember when we first met her.” His voice cracked and he smiled just a little, looking at Race, Marks, and Flick side by side. Race smiled at him and nodded, and he continued.

“Racetrack was playin’ the hero, and fought her father hopin’ ta get her away. Marks came over jus’ in time to get Ruffles ta safety, and I stayed with Racer, who was beaten up pretty bad. We’s all knew from the get go how brilliant she was, though. Her head stayed on and she told us everythin’ we needed to know in time for us to get her help.” He paused and took a shuddering breath, wanting nothing more than to hold Race in that moment. He felt so frail, so helpless. Still, he continued. This was far bigger than him.

“And I, I look back at things like this, an’ I think ta myself: This is why I lead. Not because a papers, or Snyder and the Delanceys, not because Brooklyn is where I’s been all my life, and not because I gots nowhere else ta go. I lead because a people like Ruffles, who are brilliant and kind an’ strong willed kids, who just need a little lift. I think that’s why we all do it, ta some degree. We look afta each other, an’ we help out whoeva’ and wheneva’ we can. Ruffles was a prime example of someone who was jus’ wonderful, and who we lost too early in the game. I miss her, sure, but I’s gonna do what I can to make sure that perfect, clever girl ain’t forgotten, no matta what.” Spot finished, hiding behind his sleeve as he walked back and sat down, nudging Race up to talk. He refused, insisting he would go at the end and that he wanted to make sure Spot was okay. 

Spot didn’t resist, and leaned over to cry into Race’s shirt collar, clutching onto Race as he stroked his hair. 

Another boy, a younger one, walked up to place his flowers at the coffin and go back quickly, a little girl following and speaking. She announced herself and explained how close she was to Ruffles, and told stories of their favorite moments together. 

One by one, every Newsie who was there came up to remember or talk about Ruffles, or to leave flowers to be buried in her coffin with her.

Finally, Race stood, and with shaking legs, he walked up to talk.

“Hi. I’s Racetrack, for those of ya that don’t know me. I was the one who went afta her father.” A deep breath. “I knew Ruffles well. I helped her wit’ math an’ all that, ya know? She loved ta read, and when she found out I had an Emily Dickinson book, she almost freaked. I still think that’s pretty cute, she was so excited to see there were girls out there gettin’ books published under their real names an’ all. She read that book cover ta cover more times than I can count, an’ we’d talk about what it all means. She told me she wanted ta be just like her when she grew up. An’ I think she coulda.”

Race’s hands shook as he spoke, his eyes glossing over with tears as he continued. “An’ she read some a’ those poems an’ would talk my ear off, day afta’ day about em. She read one that was her absolute favorite. I think it’s pretty fittin’.” His voice shook as he recited the poem he had read so many times.

_“Hope” is the thing with feathers -_  
That perches in the soul -  
And sings the tune without the words -  
And never stops - at all - 

_And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -_  
And sore must be the storm -  
That could abash the little Bird  
That kept so many warm - 

_I’ve heard it in the chillest land -_  
And on the strangest Sea -  
Yet - never - in Extremity,  
It asked a crumb - of me. 

Race was in tears by the time he finished. 

“That’s all. I know we’s all gonna miss her, an’ I know nothin’ anybody can say can make this alrigh’, but here we are. And we’s gonna make damn sure she ain’t forgotten. She don’t deserve that.” Race said firmly, leaving to grip onto Spot.

The Newsies stood to collect their things as the sun broke over the horizon. A gorgeous gold light set over the city, and Ruffles’ coffin, along with the mountain of flowers stationed in front of it, was truly a sight to behold. 

Spot and Race stood, hands laced together, and observed, until only them and Marks remained. They watched snow fall silently, its light flecks slowly coating everything in sight in a bright white. 

“It’s not fair.” Marks said. Spot started to cry again, glad for the support he had from his friends.

“No, it ain’t.” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually really like how this chapter came out. 
> 
> Comments, bookmarks, and kudos are GREATLY appreciated they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
> 
> It has come to my attention that I don't have a beta reader, but because I didn't really think anything would some of this, I just let it be. Now, however, I'm holding myself to a bit of a higher standard. 
> 
> If any of you are interested in being a beta for my writing, please please please let me know! I'll give you my email and all that jazz, and we can work it out!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Love you all!
> 
> <3


	19. Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, this is it. This is the finale.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy.

“Racer, you’s gotta see this!” Spot exclaimed, dashing over to tap Race on the shoulder. Spot had been first outside the lodging house three days after Ruffles’ funeral, and had made his way to her grave before the sun peeked over the horizon. When he got there, there was an envelope pressed haphazardly under a large bouquet of flowers. He opened it and sprinted all the way back to the lodging just in time for the other kids to get outside.

“What is it, Spottie?” Race grumbled, rubbing his eyes and stretching a bit as he waited for the headline to be put up.

Spot could barely contain his happiness. “Racer, you ain’t gonna believe it. The Delanceys, they apologized. Left us 40 dollars an’ gave a note sayin’ they went too far, an’ that it ain’t gonna happen again.” He stuffed the note into Race’s hand, who skimmed over it with a face of disbelief. 

The letter was genuinely heartfelt, and even though the Delanceys were still scum to them all, it somehow made things seem a little bit more okay. The money didn’t hurt, either. Spot proudly stood up on a fence and yelled loudly to get the kids’ attention.

Everybody fell silent to look up at their leader, who was grinning from ear to ear. Race’s heart swelled with pride as he read the letter aloud, finishing his speech off by holding out the money and grinning through the thunderous cheers. He held his hands out after a few moments and the crowd silenced.

“Now listen. We’s gonna be smart about spendin’ this money. But we’s got a choice. We can use this money to cova’ all of us at the lodgin’ house for two full years. We can use this to get us all food for a couple a’ months.. But I think what we’s gonna do, is we’s gonna go out and buy as many blankets and clothes as we can for us all.” There was a brief cheer.

“That means be honest, boys. Marks is over there with a pen an’ paper an’ she’s gonna watch you all write down your names an’ the three thing you’s needs most. That’s all.” Spot finished, jumping nonchalantly off of the fence, his smile not faltering as every Newsie Brooklyn had to offer turned to sign up for more supplies. All but one, of course.

“You’s the best damn leader I’s ever seen.” Race said, grinning as Spot held him around the waist, both boys keeping careful watch to make sure nobody who could see then was out yet. 

“I’m flattered.” Spot mumbled, smiling genuienly as he pulled away. The boys finished writing what they needed, and their supervisor wrote up the headline.

“Brave Brooklyn Newsboys save kidnapped girl in act of heroism.” It read. The boys whooped and cheered at the headline, and Spot turned in confusion.

“How do they kn- oh, you two did _not_.” He grumbled. Race and Marks smiled sheepishly, and Spot playfully punched them on the shoulder. 

“Why’d it take so long to be put up?” He asked. Marks shrugged.

“We didn’t give them the information until yesterday. They said it would be a pleasure to publish and held us for hours asking questions and all.” 

The gate opened and every Newsies bolted out to their selling streets. Spot gave Race a quick peck, and gave Marks a tight hug, before leaving them to go to the heart of his borough.

Selling that day was phenomenal, and every single Brooklyn Newise came back with pockets full of coins, but none more than Marks, who was very clearly the kidnapping victim.

Everybody sat around the table in the dining room, drinking and laughing and playing cards. It was Christmas night, and they all planned on taking full advantage of that. They were all rowdy on holidays, and even the youngest kids got to drink a little bit. Everybody splurged on food, drink, and games. 

Gifts were exchanged, as usual, but after dessert, the best moment of the night came around. Eight young Newsies crowded around Race and tugged on him until he gave them their full attention. A little girl smiled ear to ear, proudly displaying a missing front tooth.

“Race, we’s gotta tell ya’ somethin’!” She exclaimed. Race chuckled and looked at her proudly.

“Yea’, an’ what’s that?” He asked.

“We’s goin’ to school!” She cried, and Race’s face lit up. He crouched down immediately to hug each and every one of them tight, letting them explain that they passed entrance exams because of his schooling. Race had a grin that didn’t fade all night.

Flick explained that his family got in contact with him, and that he was moving to New Jersey to see them again. Everybody was ecstatic. Marks declared over quite a few shots that she’d gotten a job as a tutor but would stay at the lodging house. It was jovial and loud for the rest of the night. 

Finally, Spot and Race settled down in their shared bed, huddling close for warmth.

“You knows I gotta go back to ‘Hattan.” Race mumbled, and Spot sighed. The dim lights shining through the windows and the faint noise of boys still falling asleep was enough to ensure that he’d be up for a while, anyways.

“Yeah, I figure as much.” Spot replied bitterly. Race made a sour face at him, before it turned to care and worry.

“You know that ain’t gonna change you an’ me. I loves you, Sean Conlon. More than I’s eva’ loved anyone.” He said, tugging Spot closer.

Spot sighed and settled against Race’s warmth and his solid chest. Their legs tangled together and silence finally, finally settled over the lodging house.

“I knows, Tony. I loves you, too. And I ain’t never gonna leave you until you’s dead sick a’ me.” Race grinned sleepily, and Spot affectionately pet his light, curly locks. 

“Swear on it?” Race asked. Both boys teetered on the edge of sleep, ready to hold each other until the sun forced them out of bed to sell yet again.

“Swear on Brooklyn.” Spot responded quietly.

And with that, they both fell into a gentle slumber, wrapped up in a warm, loving embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... What do we think? This 25,000 word monstrosity has been pretty much top of my priority list since I started it, and while I'm glad it's finally over, I'm also a bit sad to be done with it.
> 
> That being said, I have plans for LOTS more fics in the future, and I'm SO open to suggestions, so knock yourselves out with any fandom, pairing, kink, or prompt you'd like!
> 
> I so so so appreciate each and every one of you who made it through this, and I am forever grateful for those of you who started this at the first chapter and have stuck it out this long! 
> 
> I love discussions, so I am formally opening up the comments for ANYONE to say ANYTHING they'd like about this fic. Favorite part, leave favorite part, questions, etc. 
> 
> I love you all SO much! Have an absolutely fantastic day!
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> That's the first chapter! 
> 
> Let me know what you think/If you'd like to see more
> 
> Comments and Kudos are gonna be the only thing that gets me through this, fair warning.
> 
> Predictions? Ideas for the future? Support? Let me know!
> 
> <3


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